I Owe You That
by StrangePenguin
Summary: *LAST CHAPTER UP* The friends are left to wonder if Jesse is gonna be alright. Thanks for your great support, I really appreciated it!! (I'm done, done, done, hoooray *g*)
1. Have You Ever

Ok, your break was long enough, I think! So here is my brand new, long expected (hey, don't laugh!) story, so be happy...errr..you don't have to. I won't excuse for my mistakes any more, no I won't. Really! Ok, I do. Sorry for all that bad grammar and spelling. Hope you can at least laugh at it.  
  
There was something else....oh yeah, the disclaimer thing: Ok, those guys don't belong to me (sniff), neither do the songs that are used. This story was written for fun, I don't intend to make any profit with it. (duh! I wanna c one person who would pay for this!)  
  
I wanna thank Wuemsel because Obst and vodca rule and your Cookie Hell is great! And I wanna thank Regina for being such a big encouragement. And of course I wanna thank all those of you who are still willing to read this story after my endless pratteling.  
  
Ok, let's start....finally.....  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sometimes it's wrong to walk away  
  
Though you think it's over  
  
Knowing there's so much more to say  
  
Suddenly the moment's gone and so your dreams are upside down  
  
And you just wanna change the way the world goes round.  
  
Tell me: have you ever loved and lost somebody  
  
Wished there was a chance to say I'm sorry?  
  
Oh, can't you see  
  
That's the way I feel about you and me.  
  
Tell me: have you ever felt your heart was breakin'  
  
Looking down the road you should be takin'..."  
  
She angrily held her ears shut. The more she listened to the song the more she hated it. Teenie-bands often sang about love, regrets and hurt feelings, it had never annoyed her much, but now it was just different. She didn't hate the song. She hated herself.  
  
"Ladies and gentleman, this was S Club7, the newcomers from the cold and rainy England with their new song 'Have You Ever'!" The radio host shouted into his microphone. His words echoed in all corners of the coach, the driver obviously liked loud music.  
  
The bus had passed the border of California some time ago. She wasn't actually in hurry. She liked sitting there, watching the landscape, the lemon trees and the sun beams, reflecting on the car roofs next to the coach. At the moment being alone was a gift in her opinion. Left with no one, but herself. She had a lot to sort out. It would be hard. It would be painful. But it had to be done.  
  
Between the mountains it started sparkeling blue. The ozean appeared firstly behind the trees and then lay in front of her like a dark blue carpet. She could see the smog hanging over the city as though it was a cheese board. LA seemed to be protected by that big cloud, it gave the city this weird, unreal aura.  
  
She was almost there.  
  
  
  
  
  
Her bag wasn't heavy. In fact she hadn't had many things to pack when she had left. As she walked along the streets away from the coach station, she took a deep breath. The emissions of the cars almost made her cough, but it didn't bother her. She had missed this air.  
  
The feeling in her stomach was strange, but she knew what it was telling her. She was here to do something she should have had done a long time ago. She owed him that. At least an explanation. She didn't think he wanted more from her. She had hurt him too much.  
  
She looked to the left and to the right and walked over the street. She had been so blind. He wouldn't listen to her. Never...  
  
A car suddenly sped towards her with squealing tires. She heard a scream:"Lady, watch out!" But it was too late. The car hit the young woman and drove away fast, leaving her bleeding on the hard pavement.  
  
"Call an ambulance!", shouted someone. The last thing she heard. Then only darkness...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh, the excitement! Or in Mark's words:"I wanted to try something subtle..." Who is that? What do you think? Hmmm, StrangePenguin's favorite character is certainly involved...don't tell me you know it! ;-) Next part will be up soon. Reviews are appreciated very much.  
  
I don't owe the song "Have You Ever". It belongs to the British group SClub7. 


	2. Everyday

Ok, now our story finally starts...well. more or less. Has your guess been right!  
  
Thanks to Wuemsel für the li'l commercial breaks. You rule, gurl! Obst, Obst, Obst!!  
  
Thanks to all of you for the reviews, please keep it up and tell me if you still like the story. I had the idea to find a song for each chapter of this fanfic, hope you like it, if not, don't worry, it's just an experiment. ("It's alive Igor! hahahahahaha" *flash, thunder*) lol You'll be amazed what is actually played in Germany! ;-) *yodel* hehe  
  
Well, enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The book closes and we try to forget  
  
But I know that things won't change  
  
How we feel, how life goes on  
  
And that seems so strange  
  
Everyday, everyday you know I try so hard  
  
Everyday, everyday it gets a little harder  
  
Taken from the song "Everyday" on the album "Both Sides" (1993) published by Phil Collins  
  
  
  
----------------------  
  
  
  
  
  
Dr. Jesse Travis let his head sink onto his folded arms on the reception desk and sighed exhaustedly. He was so damn tired. The shift had been hard and wasn't even half over by now. Sometimes he wondered why he had become a doctor. There were other jobs, well-paid ones with fixed working hours. 'But no, Mr. Travis must study medicine with the intention to content his parents and is even surprised as that doesn't work...'Jesse thought. Normally he loved his job, he knew that these kinds of thoughts were a result of a day full of hard work. In fact he wasn't that negative.  
  
"Dr. Trevor, here you are, I almost wouldn't have found you. It's as though you've been hiding from me..." Jesse heard an annoying voice near his right ear and lifted his head slowly. In front of him stood Brandon Dawn, the new hospital administrator, who had been getting on Jesse's nerves for hours.  
  
"You don't say so!", mumbled Jesse and was up to walk away, but Dawn caught him up after a few feet.  
  
"You know, I've thought about the little discussion we had earlier..."  
  
'As far as I remember you talked while I tried to get some sleep', Jesse didn't say anything, but just rolled with his eyes.  
  
"Jeremy, listen to me, if we really want to improve the capability of the ER staff, we should..." Dawn wasn't very impressed by Jesse's incorrespondetive behaviour.  
  
"Jesse! My name is Jesse Travis!", corrected Jesse dryly.  
  
"What? Oh yeah, Jesse! Ok, we should..." Dawn let out a sermon about something Jesse wasn't interested in.  
  
Dr. Mark Sloan was coming out of the lounge and watched his friend being talked to death by Dawn. Mark saw Jesse's tired look, the deep lines under his eyes, he didn't even seem to have had time for a shower after the last surgery, his skin was glossing from the slight sweat. His posture was typical for him, he always looked the same when he tried to make an awake impression, but he couldn't hide his tiredness, not in front of Mark.  
  
Jesse moved his shoulders in small revolutions to ease his muscles. His hands bobbed a little up and down and his fingers clenched and relaxed in regular intervals. He didn't keep eye contact with his interlocutor, which he usually did, but now his looks were wandering around in the room, his eyes weren't fixed on anything special.  
  
Mark suddenly realized that he knew Jesse really well. He could tell from one quick sight what Jesse felt like. It was the same with his son, Steve, of course, but Jesse wasn't his son and though Mark felt connected with him in the same strange way as he felt with Steve.  
  
Right now, Jesse had spotted his friend standing only a few feet away and formed with his lips a soundless 'Rescue me!'  
  
Mark understood and reacted immediately. He walked over to his friend and the still pratteling administrator. As he stood behind Dawn, that only Jesse could see him, he put on a very important look and tapped Brandon's shoulder. "Excuse me..."  
  
The other one turned around and scrutinisized Mark. At first he didn't seem to recognise him, he hardly knew any of the doctors yet, but then the penny fell. "Uh, Dr. Spoon, nice too see you!"  
  
"Sloan!", corrected Mark, trying not to giggle but to go on playing his part.  
  
"You wanna join our little discussion group?" Dawn grinned engagingly or at least he hoped that it looked like that. He had heard so many storys about the head of the internal medicine and medical consultant of the LAPD, that he couldn't wait to meet this man. Actually Dawn had expected a mixture of Robin Hood, Socrates, James Bond and Charlie Chaplin, but the guy in front of him didn´t have many similarities with Kevin Costner or Pierce Brosnan, and also a strange black hat and the antique clothes were missing.  
  
Dr Mark Sloan shook his head and looked very seriously at the younger man in scrubs. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr Dawn, but I need to talk to Dr Travis. Urgently!"  
  
"Oh, I understand...", Dawn bit on his lip and realized that this didn't seem to be the right time to speak about capabilities and the budget. The two men watched each other very concernedly, of course it was something important. So Dawn turned and walked away. He had to talk to the pathologist anyway. What was her name? A car brand...."Dr Mercedes!", called Brandon and ran after Amanda, who was just heading for the elevator.  
  
Mark and Jesse watched the pain in the neck going after his next victim and had to grin. They felt slightly sorry for making fun of the man so badly. "And I always thought Norman was hardly to bea....." The last letter of the word was swallowed by Jesse's yawn. He rubbed his eyes. "Never mind. Thanks Mark, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come by. I owe you something..."  
  
Mark smiled friendly. "Oh, you really could do me a favor. Go to the next free bed you find, lay down and take a nap. Jesse, some of the bodys in Amanda's pathology lab look healthier than you!" Saying that he pushed Jesse to the door of the restroom. Jesse was too tired to argue. He collapsed onto one of the couches and was sleeping within seconds. "And I haven't even needed sedatives...." Mark mumbled amusedly, scrutinisizing the figure, whose cest lifted and sank calmly and regularly.  
  
  
  
Jesse was woken up by a well-known sound that came from the direction of his waistband. 'Beep...beep...beep', his pager had went off and told him that he was needed in the ER. He glanced at his watch, he had slept for about two hours, it was already dark outside. Actually he didn't feel much better than before. But he hadn't time to think about his condition. Duty was calling. Groaning, Jesse got up and made his way to the ER.  
  
When he got there, a strecher was rolled in by two paramedics. "What have we got?", asked Jesse, pulling gloves over his hands, and took the chart that one of the nurses handed to him. His gift to be concentrated even when he was terribly tired was amazing. It made him to one of the bests.  
  
"Female, middle twenties, white, was hit by a car and unconscious when we arrived. Head injuries, probably internal bleedings, broken ribs. Heart stopped during the ride, but we got her back....Doc?!"  
  
Tom Chandler, the young paramedic, frowned at the doctor who had just got as pale as a wall. Jesse stared in shock at the young woman on the stretcher. Her forehead was covered with blood, her eyes were closed and she looked completely lifeless. But he was sure that he had recognised her. Or maybe not? It had been a while go...  
  
"Dr Travis?! Are you ok? Can you hear me?", Tom waved his hand in front of Jesse's face, who had seemed to be blacking out for seconds. Jesse got aware of him and nodded weakly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok! Do you have her name?"  
  
"Yeah, this passport was in her bag." Tom gave the passport to the doctor and wondered secretly what was wrong with him. This man made always such a determined impression, but now it was almost as though his thoughts weren't...weren't there. The sight of the passport made Jesse shudder inwardly. He hadn't erred. But he couldn't escape, so he swallowed his nausea, prayed loudlessly for strength and followed the ER team of the Community General Hospital into the trauma room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ford, BMW, Renault...I think there is no car brand, Dawn hasn't named me after!", Amanda told Mark, filling out the last autopsy reports at her desk. The older doctor simply chuckled.  
  
"That's not funny, Mark! It's easier to stand CJ and Dion together with six of their friends than that man. Gosh, I really wondered where the off- button was." Amanda pulled the sheets over the victim of a surf accident and snorted unnervedly. She glanced at Mark. "Where is Jesse by the way? He should have been here with two cups of strong, steaming coffee about fifteen minutes ago!"  
  
"When I last saw him he was sleeping on the couch in the restroom..."  
  
"Firmly?!"  
  
He nodded. "Like a baby!"  
  
She glared suspiciously at him. "You didn't give him sedatives again, did you?"  
  
Mark giggled and shook his head. "Wasn't necessary at all!" Suddenly his pager started to beep. Having had a quick look at it, Mark got up. "Gotta go to the ER. And I promise you a cup of coffee when I get back. Bye!"  
  
"You are the best!" She smiled at him and watched him leaving the room.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey Nancy, what's the matter?" asked Mark the nurse at reception desk. She looked sheepishly at him. "Oh, Dr. Sloan! Nothing special....it's just...we got a victim of a car accident and Dr. Travis made a very....unconcentrated impression to me...so thought I'd better call you..."  
  
Mark frowned at her. That didn't fit to Jesse. Of course, he was stressed and probably tired, but that normally didn't obstruct him in doing his job. But Nancy was a good nurse and Mark held female intuition in high esteem. So he decided to have a look at the situation, maybe Jesse could really need some help. He took a chart from Nancy and quickly read through it. Or at least that was his intention, but his attention was caught by the name that was written at the top. Now the description of Jesse's behavior didn't surprise him any more.  
  
Gulping heavily, he entered the room, where the members of the ER staff were wizzing around like some excited bees. At the first sight everything was as it should be.  
  
"Respiratory tracts are clear, you wanna intubate, Dr Travis? Doctor?!" The nurse shouted at Jesse who was busy with staring at the x-ray pictures in shock.  
  
"What, yeah...of course! We need to operate as soon as possible, a piece of the a rib is going to puncture the lung otherwise..." Jesse felt his blood pounding in his ears, he could barely hear himself. But it wasn't the right time now. He had to get control over his emotions somehow.  
  
"But you're not going to do it! You won't operate her!" Mark had build up next to Jesse and looked very resolutely. He was worried about Jesse. And he was also worried about her. Jesse was the best doctor Mark had ever seen, but under such a terrible psychological pressure, even the best doctor in the world could make a mistake. Also doctors were only human beings.  
  
Jesse shook his head dismissingly. "I can, Mark, really, it's not a problem!"  
  
The head of the internal medicine watched him in disbelieve. "I don't want you to do it and I can't let you do it, not only because I'm a doctor, but because I'm your friend. She is your ex-girlfriend, Jess!"  
  
"As if I wouldn't know that!", Jesse almost shouted at the older doctor. Until this moment the other people in the ER hadn't noticed the argument between the two of them, as Mark and Jesse had been discussing in undertone, but when Jesse raised his voice, they suddenly glanced at him confusedly. Their looks told Jesse that they thought he was going crazy.  
  
Actually he wasn't crazy, he was just awfully angry. He didn't know with whom. With himself, with the guy who had done that, maybe even a bit with her. He knew it was witess. And he couldn't help feeling that way, though. Scrutinisizing the syringe in his hand, he suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing. Jesse had to admit that Mark was right, he didn't like it, but their was no need to quarrel any more.  
  
"Please don't let her die!" he said in a low voice and his big blue pleading eyes met Mark's, who nodded, quite relieved that Jesse was giving up. He could understand that this wasn't easy for him. Jesse turned around and pulling the gloves from his hands and smashing them into a waste bin, he left the trauma room.  
  
From outside he listened to Mark's voice, which shouted commands. Then he headed for the lounge. He couldn't stand that noise any more.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Mark came out of the OR some hours later, he ran directly into Amanda.  
  
"Mark, here you are! I was believing..." She stopped, wondering why he looked so bad. He was exhausted and seemed to be very nervous about something. "Have you lost your patient?" It was the only explanation that made sense.  
  
He shook his head. "She is in a coma. Her condition is very serious. Honestly, it doesn't look as though she will make it..."  
  
She put her hand on his trembling arm and noticed that something about the situation bothered him even more than usually. And she had a question: "Why have you been operating? Isn't she Jesse's patient?"  
  
He took a deep breath. "That's the problem." He hesitated and when she gave him an asking look, he opened his mouth again slowly. "It's.... it's Susan!" 


	3. Wish

Hey hey, it's me who's gettin' on your nerves again!! So here is the third chapter....enjoy! And thanks to Mady for telling me about that restroom=bathroom thing, I really didn't know that. Ok, maybe I did but I forgot it...Keep it to yourself Wuemsel, I know what you wanna say! Obst rules! No, only kiddin', I looove you!! Anyway, I hope you didn't mind that li'l mistake (oh, please don't answer) and I also hope that you'll forgive me for not correcting it, I'd miss your reviews!! ;-)  
  
And as if that wouldn't have been annoying enough, I still have a disclaimer for you*please don't hit me!!* : The song "Wish" wasn't written by me (duh!). It belongs to the Lighthouse Family and was published on their album "Whatever Gets You Through The Day" (2001)  
  
Nooooo, don't stop readin', the chapter hasn't ended, yet! Actually it's beginning now. Have fun! :-)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I thought I got the A-Z but now I'm lost  
  
And don't know where I'm going, don't know what I'm looking for anymore  
  
I'm all burnt out  
  
There ain't that much I care about  
  
And I know I'm missing something  
  
I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore  
  
I won't let it get to me  
  
But I really miss you badly  
  
I wish I knew how I'm gonna be happy without you  
  
I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
  
I thought I got it all mapped out but now I'm lost  
  
In a world that ain't got you in I don't know what I'm living for  
  
Hopeless without the only thing I cared about  
  
'Cause you have been me salvation in a world where there's no love anymore  
  
  
  
----------------------  
  
  
  
The tall man glanced at the clock over the kitchen door again and again and everytime he did so, he became more and more impatient. His fingers were drumming nervously on the coffee machine and he repeated only one sentence "My gosh, hurry up!", which was inaudible for the guests, fortunately. They would probably have thought that he was completely irrational.  
  
Corrie watched him carefully from the corners of her eyes, while she was taking orders. "Two coke and a salad without dressing." She handed her scribbles into the kitchen and went over to the coffee machine, where her boss was still pausing in this tensed and quite uncomfortable posture. The red apron didn't fit him, his upper body was just too broad and muscular. He looked every inch like a cop, his facial expression, his posture, his eyes. Not unlikeable though. Tall, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, charming and good-natured. Normally anyway. At the moment he looked as though he was up to bite somebody's head off and Corrie even knew, whose head it was.  
  
Actually that was one of the reasons why she had asked for a job here. She had really wanted to see how a homicide detective from the LAPD and an ER surgeon ran a restaurant together. It was as she had expected it to be: totally chaotic. And it was the best job she had ever had, though. The two owners acted like brothers and were always nice, even mostly to each other. Detective Steve Sloan's business partner was, as already said, a young doctor, who was also kind and good-looking. Together they ran the BBQ Bob's and were proud to say that they sold the best ribs you could find in LA.  
  
Steve threw the clock a very last glare as though it was a murdering machine and took off his apron. He grabbed his jacket and put on his holster with the gun, which he was used to keep under the counter. 'Once a cop, always a cop', thought Corrie and at the same moment Steve build up in front of her. "Jesse isn't here, yet, I'm sure he'll be coming soon. Do you think you can manage this on your own?"  
  
Corrie nodded. Actually she liked her job very much and besides there was Alex, whose shift was also starting soon. Between coffee mugs and ribs there was always some time to flirt with that very attractive medicine student.  
  
"I'd really stay, but I have just got a new case and..." Steve excused himself, but was interrupted by Corrie's self-confident, waving away gesture. Usually he didn't like having only new employees in his restaurant, especially if they were still students and it was close to dinner time. But Corrie seemed to be trusting and what could he say against it, at least she was in time what he couldn't claim Jesse to be. Anyway 'have just got' was put mildly, Steve had got the call from chief Masters fourty-five minutes ago. So he headed off finally.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was not much later when he walked through the halls of the Community General Hospital to request an autopsy report from the pathologist and coroner Dr. Amanda Bentley. On his way, he passed the doctor's lounge and decided to have a cup of coffee. There was always some and Steve knew that. Two of the most remarkable things which connected him to his father, were their passion for solving crimes and their addiction to coffee. Trying not to think of his heart rhythm, Steve sipped on the dark liquid and turned around to settle down on the couch and wait for Amanda.  
  
To his surprise he now realised that he wasn't the only man in the room. Another one was sitting on one of the chairs and stared into his empty mug.  
  
Steve bent forward and he had to admit that he was kinda angry. "Jesse, what are you still doing here?! You may have forgotten about it, but we own a restaurant and your shift there began two hours ago...Have you lost your tongue? I'm talking to you!...I see, you find that funny, do you?!" He paused when he noticed that his words didn't seem to have an effect. Jesse hadn't even moved.  
  
Now Steve watched his friend more carefully. Jesse trembled as though he had just swum in the ice sea, which made the mug between his fingers shaking slightly. His scrubs were soiled with blood, which bestowed Jesse's shirt an ugly purple in connection with the light-blue.  
  
Steve slowly got aware of the fact that his remarks had been totally misplaced. Obviously something was very, very wrong because Jesse was usually not the kind of man who missed his duties without any reason. Why hadn't Steve thought about that earlier? Jesse looked so frustrated, as he still hadn't lifted his head, Steve couldn't see his face, but his body language was unmistakable.  
  
The detective hadn't expected a respond any more, therefore he almost jumped when Jesse mumbled: "Sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to let you down."  
  
The way he said that, Steve couldn't help but thinking of a murderer who claimed that he really didn't mean to kill a person. To Steve those statements never seemed to be very truthful, but Jesse had sounded so pleadingly, that you could really get the impression he wanted to save himself from a lethal injection.  
  
Steve got up from the couch and walked over to his best friend, who sat on a chair, hanging his head. He had the odd feeling that something fateful had happened and he wanted to know what. If Jesse would tell him?  
  
Right now Jesse felt too shaken to speak. His reply to Steve had been honest, he felt really guilty for letting down his friend, but nevertheless this remark was devoted to someone else.  
  
He had thought that he had got over Susan. At least he had managed to dupe himself so well, that he was rather shocked to discover that there was still something. Why had she come back? Only to break his heart again, to bring past events back to his mind he wanted to forget? If that were her reasons, Jesse had to admit, that she had achieved her goal. Never ever he had reacted so much out of character in his job. He had shouted at Mark, who definitely hadn't wanted to do him any harm, he had made a fool of himself and -and that was probably the worst- he had risked Susan's life, only to proof himself that she didn't mean anything to him any more. And that wasn't even true.  
  
He was about to get up and pour another cup of coffee for himself, when Mark walked in, Amanda was close to his heels.  
  
Mark didn't know what he should do. He had to tell Jesse the truth, that he would find out anyway, but he had no idea how. The last sentence Jesse had said to him before he had left the trauma room, was still wandering around in Mark's head: 'Please don't let her die!' Now his young friend was standing there in the bright, artificial light of the neon tubes in the hospital lounge and seemed to expect the worst, as he straightened up and took a deep breath. Mark had often seen that, but earlier he had never understood it. Within the years he had learned that collecting as much air as possible in your lungs was a good way to prevent yourself from starting to cry. A last attempt of pretending strength, where there was only despair.  
  
'Please, Mark, keep the bad news to yourself 'cause I don't want you to see me having a break down here right now!' Jesse thought, and somehow he hoped that Mark was able to read his thoughts.  
  
Steve watched his father and Jesse curiously. A few feet separated them from each other and none of them seemed to want to make the first step. Jesse didn't want to hear anything and Mark didn't scramble for saying anything.  
  
His son threw Amanda a tell-me-finally-what's-going-on-look and Amanda threw a don't-dare-to-ask-now-look back.  
  
"Jesse, listen to me! Susan is alive, but in ICU and in coma. I won't lie at you, it doesn't look very good at the moment. But it's still too early to judge the situation, we can only wait. I....I'm sorry , Jess..." Mark couldn't go ahead. He had seen how Jesse hands clenched around the edge of the table, in order to fetch the support Jesse's body wasn't able to give any more. Mark could hardly resist the urge to hug the young man, to tell him that everything would be fine as he had done it with his own son when he had been younger. Much younger. But he knew that the hurt Jesse felt at the moment was more than the pain of a bleeding knee. It was deeper and it was more complicated. If only Jesse had shown any kind of reaction, shown that he had got what Mark had just said. Mark wouldn't repeat it. Not for all goods in the world. Looking into these sad blue eyes and causing with his words more inevitable pain, no, Mark didn't have the heart to do this.  
  
Jesse guessed that his friends expected a reaction from him. He really wanted to talk to them, but he hardly believed that they would understand him, he didn't even understand it himself. Never ever he would be able to put it into words. All the love, the worries, the despair, the anger, the guilt, wasn't to be expressed with anything. He could simply nod. "Thanks, Mark. Really. Now would, would you excuse me, please?..."  
  
Mark and Amanda released the doorway more or less voluntarily and watched Jesse heading off. Amanda couldn't just see him like this and out of quick impulse she grabbed his arm. He stopped abruptly and turned his face to her, she could see the confusion and also fear in it. "Amanda...", he stammered, "please don't! Whatever you are up to say, please don't!" He spoke rather quietly, Amanda was so surprised by that, that she loosened the grip around his wrist.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse straightly went to the reception desk in the ER, where he was greeted by Tom Chandler, the paramedic, who was filling in his reports. Tom was about Jesse's age, tall, dark-skinned and very good-looking. He and the doctor had become quite good friends, as Jesse didn't make paramedics feel like odd-job men, but was always excited and impressed when Tom told him something about the 'battlefield' outside the hospital. And Tom admired Jesse a bit for the passion, the patience, the honesty and reliability he treated his patients with and although Tom was probably not somebody to judge that, he regarded Jesse as one of the best doctors he had ever seen in his life, and that were -God-knows- lots of.  
  
"Hey, doc, you ok again?" he asked Jesse in his strange, but lovely accent, he had from his mother, who was from France. Tom had always been better at French than at English.  
  
The much shorter, blonde man looked up from a chart and swayed his head, absently. Tom couldn't make out if it was a 'yes', a 'no' or a 'you're sucking'. "Wow, man, what's wrong with you? You're looking as though someone has died..." Tom suddenly sensed that those 'street'-proverbs, as he knew them from his hometown Chicago, could be a little too tricky for the usage in hospitals. He put on an apologising look. "Has...anyone died?"  
  
Jesse tried to smile. He knew that Tom hadn't wanted to hurt him. He just didn't know it better and often said the wrong things at the wrong time. Normally Jesse had chuckled about that. Yeah, he and Tom were quite similar to each other.  
  
Jesse now definitely shook his head. "I'm fine, really! Everyone has an off- day now and then, today somehow seems to be mine." He hoped that his excuse didn't sound too lame.  
  
But Tom only nodded understandingly. "Man, I know exactly what you are meaning. Hey, I have told you about this girl, Cindy, you know, blonde, tall and..." Jesse actually didn't want to hear stories about Tom's almost- dates, but right now he saw Brandon Dawn leaving the elevator and decided quickly that Tom was the better alternative. At the moment he was thankful for any kind of distraction.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In the meantime three very confused friends had sat down on the seats in the doctors lounge and were looking very ancietly at each other.  
  
"So Susan is back in Los Angeles?" asked Steve. He was mentally still kicking himself for yelling at Jesse. How couldn't he have noticed anything? Why hadn't he had a closer look firstly? Jesse had needed someone who was there for him and what had he done? Shouted at him, blamed him, made sarcastic remarks. One of the instructors at the police academy had always said: "Cops shoot first, then they start asking. But the good cops have enough intuition to ask firstly and then shoot." Steve had always thought that he could heed this advice. That he could be one of the good cops. Of course words were no bullets, but Steve knew that they could hurt the same way, both could cause a sharp pain deep inside you. Instead of helping his friend, he had only hurt him more. At least he felt like that.  
  
Mark nodded and said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I only wonder why. It has been more than a year since she and Jesse split up."  
  
"With whom did she leave LA?" Steve had to admit that he couldn't remember that fact.  
  
"With a chiropraticer..." Mark answered slowly, he wasn't quite sure about that. It had never been really important. Jesse had rarely ever talked about it and when he had, he had only cracked jokes.  
  
"I'm worried about Jesse", mumbled Amanda.  
  
"So we are..." added Mark and shook his head in despair. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want him to lose his hope that Susan may wake up again, but if that doesn't happen....he would never admit it but she means still a lot to him and if she....if she dies..." Mark was at a loss of words. What he actually wanted to say was that he wasn't sure if Jesse could cope with that. But he sensed that saying so wouldn't have been fair. He knew that behind Jesse's often as vulnerable appearing way, there was an ardent and stubborn strength. But even such a strength had its limits. When would they be striked? Mark also knew that Jesse was a grown-up man and certainly didn't like to be treated like a small child, nevertheless Mark just wanted to protect him. He had always seen in Jesse a little boy, who hadn't met many people in his life who really loved him. But Mark did. That man was like a son to him.  
  
"All we can do is just being there and listen to him if he wants to talk. That is gonna be hard for him", the older doctor said finally and his son and Amanda agreed with a silent nod.  
  
"I have to go!" Steve got up suddenly. He didn't like those quiet moments very much. And he still had a lot of work to do. Captain Newman was already waiting at the headquaters with a new case. "Amanda, have you finished the autopsy I asked you to do yesterday?"  
  
"Suicide, no doubt!", muttered Amanda. She was a bit mad with Steve. Why did he always keep his emotions to himself? She was sure that he also wanted to help Jesse, but it seemed to be very hard for him to show it. 'Men...', she thought.  
  
Steve took note of the fact that Amanda was somehow not in the mood to talk to him furtherly. But the piece of information she had given him was actually enough. "See ya. Bye!" He waved his father and the pathologist and left.  
  
  
  
  
  
As Steve dialled his father's cell-phone number from the phone on his desk in the LAPD headquaters, his heart had sunk so deep that it had almost reached his boots. Staring at the file in front of him, he sighed heavily, while waiting for the ringing tone.  
  
Going his rounds, Mark had checked on Susan and now that he had finished his work at the moment and was back in the lounge, he was completely down in the dumps. He still remembered her quite well from then, and the sight of her by now made him feel very sad. He had always liked her. She and Jesse had fit to each other. Stupid little girl. Maybe she had made mistakes. But don't we all do? Mark asked in silence someone who wasn't in the room, someone he didn't knew, someone who probably wasn't even living on this earth.  
  
Mark was interrupted in thinking when his cell-phone rang. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi dad, it's me!" Steve's rather nervous voice could be heard from the other site of the line.  
  
"Hey son, what's up?" Mark knew from his son's tone that something was wrong. Even the static sounds that were audible when the air from Steve's breaths striked the receiver, told volumes. Short, flat.  
  
"How's Susan?"  
  
"Not better than she was when you left. She is hardly able to breath and the fracture on her head is very bad. There could be internal bleedings we don't even know of...Steve?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"It's just...there is the possibility...eventually..."  
  
"Steve!!"  
  
"The police...Tanis...we assume...we have proofs that Susan's accident wasn't an accident..."  
  
"What?!" Mark was totally stunned.  
  
"The car which hit Susan had no number plate. We have found it four streets away from the scene of the accident. A black BMW. It was stolen."  
  
"Maybe it was a thief on the run..." Mark suggested. He just couldn't believe it.  
  
Steve shook his head, though his father couldn't see it. He could imagine how his dad looked at the moment. Shocked and astounded. "We have witnesses who say that the car drove along the street with normal speed. It first accelerated when it was about 200 feet away from her. It looks like attempted murder, dad."  
  
"Ok, thanks son. I'll call you later. Bye."  
  
"Bye dad."  
  
Mark put his cell-phone back into his pocket. He had to talk to Jesse. That wasn't gonna be easy. Jesse had been avoiding him for hours, perhaps he wanted to be alone, Mark could understand that, but now he had to find him. 'Maybe I should speak to Amanda first', thought Mark and went to pathology lab. As he opened the door and entered, he instinctively threw a searching look into the room because he wanted to make sure that Jesse wasn't there.  
  
"Hey Mark, what's up?" asked Amanda, finishing the very last autopsy of this shift. Actually she had planned to go home and have a nice evening with her sons, but at the moment things looked different. She couldn't leave Jesse like that. He was something like a brother to her and even something like a second dad to her sons, especially CJ.  
  
"I've just got a call from Steve. He said that they have indications that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen." Now that he was saying it himself Mark finally got what had happened.  
  
Amanda almost dropped the scalpel. "Oh no! Does Jesse know about it?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "No, I haven't told him, yet. I...I don't dare to."  
  
  
  
Jesse walked along the halls and reached the pathology. The pressure on his chest almost choked him and his blood roared in his ears. He had been avoiding the ICU as well as possible. He couldn't go in there because he knew that he could never deal with what was expecting him. Jesse hated himself for his damn pride. But Susan had hurt him so much and she shouldn't get the power to mess up his life again.  
  
He wanted to have a cup of coffee with his friends. For hours he hadn't shown up because he hadn't want to see their pitying looks. But secretly he was afraid of something else. Every time Jesse looked at them he had the feeling that they could practically look inside him, read his mind and that he couldn't throw sand into their eyes. Was he really so transparent?  
  
Nevertheless Jesse was sorry for letting himself go so awfully. After all Mark, Amanda and Steve hadn't any fault, Susan's accident was his problem, not theirs.  
  
When Jesse wanted to open the door, he suddenly froze as he heard Mark talking inside. "...that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen."  
  
Then Amanda: "Does Jesse know about it?"  
  
"No I haven't told him, yet! I...I don't dare to..."  
  
Jesse stood back and leaned with his back against the wall. He still heard the sounds from inside, but they were muffled and echoed in his ears. That wasn't true, no, please not. All this was a nightmare, a horror movie, wasn't real. Gasping for air, Jesse burried his head in his hands. The tears whelmed up in him, but he wouldn't let them get control over him. "Don't cry", he mumbled, "don't dare to cry!" Slowly his hands sank again. Now he clenched his fingers and started to hit them against the wall behind him.  
  
"Jesse...Jesse! Jess! Geez, Jesse, can you hear me!"  
  
Now Jesse realised that someone had grabbed his shoulders and was shaking him heavily. He saw the grey-haired doctor standing in front of him, watching him with a worried expression on his face.  
  
Mark felt Jesse's tensed body was getting calmer and moments later Jesse collapsed against the wall again. Only Mark's extented arm prevented him from falling. "How much have you heard?" Mark asked, feeling awful because this was exactly the situation he had wanted to avoid.  
  
Jesse shrugged wearily. "Enough..." By then he had to swallow again. All this was becoming too much. And why did he have the feeling that it hadn't even really started? He began to walk. His first steps were rather insecure, but they became determined.  
  
Mark caught him up. "Sorry Jesse, I didn't want to tell it you that way..."  
  
Jesse shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Mark. It's ok."  
  
Now it was Mark's turn to shake his head. "It's not ok, Jesse, you know that. If you wanna talk, I'm always here for you..."  
  
Jesse nodded. He didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment, though. "Thanks Mark... But I've gotta go now." Then Jesse headed off as fast as he could, feeling Mark's looks practically piercing his back.  
  
Mark watched the young man and shook his head. All that was dreadful. Why did he have the feeling that this was just the beginning? 


	4. How Will I Know

Hey, you still know me? Ok, I'll make it short this time. Just say to wuemsel that Obst rules and mean cupboards are no reason to be scared of...as long as you are tall! I'm insane, does that actually matter?  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the song. "How Will I Know" was sung by the singer Jessica in 1998.  
  
So, enjoy! :-)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"OK guys and our next hit is from Jessica and I wanna hear you sing really loud: "How will I know who you are"...."  
  
  
  
I don't know how or where to start  
  
But here we're standing again  
  
And I see now from where we are  
  
That our road has come to an end.  
  
Though we've come this far  
  
I don't know why  
  
But I still can't see who you are.  
  
....  
  
It's too late now  
  
We've gone this far  
  
To see what's hidden within  
  
Though we said that we'd never part  
  
Maybe I've been trying to hard  
  
To believe in love  
  
I don't know why  
  
But I still can't see who you are....  
  
  
  
  
  
Dr. Robert Bakins glared at the small radio on his desk as he turned and pressed the several buttons to find another channel. Other music. Something classic without singing and pouring feelings out to a whole nation. Or even to the world. Having put in some calming piano tootling, Robert ran his strong hands through his mouse-brown short hair, then he started to search for a pencil that he had just dropped onto the floor. When he had finally found it, he tried to concentrate on these files again, but soon he realised that his hands were trembling and that his eyelids became heavy. He hadn't got much sleep in the last nights. Too many thoughts.  
  
From his office on the sixth floor in the building of the "Shane Arthur Williams Clinic", a private clinic in the heart of New York City, he could watch the people in the Central Park. At 6 o'clock in the morning there were only some joggers and men with their dogs. All of them lived their ordinary stupid life day for day without ever thinking about it. When they came home, they would eat a yogurt, kiss their wives, take their children to school, drive through the NYC traffic, go to work in one of these stifling offices, quarrel with some colleagues and drink a few cups of coffee, then drive home again, look through their mail, watch TV and then turn in and maybe make a bit love with their wives or girlfriends or read "War and Peace".  
  
Robert got up from his chair, went to the small cupboard and poured himself another Jim Beam. The third today. Normally he didn't drink before working, but he needed something that would improve his mood and return him to that warm cosiness he missed so much. The phone ringed. Wondering who was calling at such a time, Robert walked over to his desk, set his glass down on one of the opened files, whereby he accidentally spilled some of the alcohol, which left a light-brown moist circle on the front paper, and picked up the receiver.  
  
"Hello?" He said and noticed horrorfiedly that he was already babbeling a little.  
  
"Good morning, am I talking to Dr. Robert Bakins?", asked a voice which certainly belonged to an older male person.  
  
Robert didn't recognise the voice. He only hoped that it wasn't anybody of his superiors. Those would be quite disappointed when they discovered that he had drunk, though he had lots of patients today. Private clinics couldn't afford any scandals. And a chiropracticer who accidentally caused a paralysis because he wasn't sober was definitely one. Robert calmed himself down with a glance at his wristwatch. Dr Perkins was probably still dreaming sweetly next to one of his about three girlfriends and it was very likely that Dr Miller had just ended up the second hole at the Milford Golf Course with a wonderful put and a birdie. And he himself had still got left three hours to get the alcohol out of his blood system.  
  
'God save the cliches', thought Robert, chuckling and answered: "Yes, I am Dr. Robert Bakins. What can I do for you?" 'at a time when everyone else is standing under the shower, trying to transform himself from a sleepy monster into a reasonably handsome human being' he added in his mind.  
  
The man at the other site of the line hesitated. "Dr Bakins, you probably don't know me any more, I'm Dr Mark Sloan from the Community General Hospital in Los Angeles..."  
  
Robert slumped into his chair as though he had been shot. He couldn't remember Dr Mark Sloan in person, but he knew the Community General Hospital. He had been there at a congress about one years ago. Actually that had been the time when his problems had started. Taking a pencil in order to have something in his hand he could throw against the wall without causing too much damage, Robert sat now very erectly in his seat and said politely:  
  
"I'm very sorry to say that I cannot remember you, but of course I know your hospital. How can I help you?"  
  
Though both men were talking very friendly, you could hear that there was hostile tension between them.  
  
"I wanted to ask you something about your relationship with the nurse Susan Hilliard...you should have known her quite well..." Mark started directly. Seconds later he heard a cool, sarcastic laugh at the other end of the line.  
  
"Oh yeah, I believe I knew her. What has that little bitch done this time?" A wave of anger floated over Robert, but the Wiskey and the pain which was slowly eating him from inside, hampered him in getting control over his rage.  
  
"Actually someone tried to murder her!" Mark assumed that the man was drunk. His pronounciation was completely blurred.  
  
For a moment Robert didn't know if he should start laughing or crying. After all he had loved her once. Or at least believed he had. But on the other hand she had practically played with his heart. She did deserve it, somehow. But what did this doctor Sloan want from him? "How...how have you got to know my number?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't even look clearly.  
  
"Oh, my son is homicide detective...that wasn't difficult..." Mark wondered what would happen next. It was obvious that the man he was talking to was anything else but sober, so what would he do?  
  
"Homicide detective...you must be very proud of him..." , Robert's tone was still sharp.  
  
Nevertheless Dr Sloan didn't seem to be very impressed. "In fact I have wondered if you could give me some information about her. Where did she work, where did she live, about her friends, had someone a motive to murder her?..."  
  
Robert's fingers clenched around the pencil and seconds later it broke in two. 'I knew I would need it', he thought furiously and aggressively jumped up from his chair. "What has she told you, doc, what?!" He yelled into the receiver. "That I never loved her, that I am a bad man?! Yeah, in her opinion that's all true. Why are you asking anyway?! Has she maybe told you that I beat her? Ok, I did, but only once, I swear, I didn't mean it that way, it just happened! I don't know anything about her! Maybe you could ask your wonderful Dr Travis! He is the one she loved, he must know everything about her, not me, who only spent one year of my damn life with her!  
  
Have a nice life doc!" With these words Robert put down the receiver with a loud bump and fell into his chair, barely able to hold back the tears. He had made so many mistakes. Someone had tried to kill Susan and he hadn't even shown a bit of pity. What a great fool was he anyway?! He could deal with so many things, so why couldn't he deal with what was happening now. At the end he had to admit to himself that his relationship to her had been lie. 'Get over her, Rob!' he commanded himself. Something as it had just had happened, was not to happen again!  
  
He got up and, swaying a little, he went to the mirror in the one corners of his office. He grimaced at his own sight. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck, his shirt was blotched with red wine and scotch and the sharp creases in his trousers couldn't be recognised any more. His hazelnut- brown eyes were bloody red and framed with black shadows, he was rather unshaved and his normally so youthful face was showing deep lines. It was lamentable.  
  
Robert pulled on his tie and took his jacket. If he buttoned it up, the dirt on his shirt would be hardly to see. A shaver was always in one of the drawers in his desk and if he made a short trip to one of the washrooms, he would again look like a successful young doctor within ten minutes. He was still busied with rummaging in the drawers, when the door opened and someone quietly entered his office. A pair of leather shoes slid over the red carpet and seconds later Robert found himself staring into the face of someone he had never seen before in his life.  
  
"Who are you?", he asked confusedly.  
  
Instead of an answer the other one lifted a gun. A bang sounded through the whole administration area of the "Shane Arthur Williams Clinic", but as there weren't any people at work, yet, it remained unheared. Dr Robert Bakins was lying on the floor in his office in the west wing and a round bloody wound gaped in his forehead. He was definitely dead. The unknown person smiled satisfiedly to himself as he escaped as quickly as he had appeared before.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark looked at the receiver and shook his head. Robert hadn't even given him a chance to say what was going on. That Susan hadn't told them anything, that she was in coma and in a very bad condition. According to Robert's reaction, he had really loved her. Maybe he had just been too hurt, too overwhelmed by his feelings to think properly. Mark decided to try it later again. Right now he was too tired.  
  
"You've called him, have you?" Jesse was leaning on the doorframe, still dressed in these bloody scrubs, hardly able to make only one step forward.  
  
Mark looked up and felt a bit caught, though he hadn't done anything wrong, but he was scared of his friend's possible reaction. "I had to, Jess! Maybe he knows something..."  
  
Jesse shrugged and hoped that Mark would believe that it really didn't matter to him. He hadn't known Robert very well anyway. The doctor wandered over to the cupboard to grab his mug. To Mark he didn't look like the young enthusiastic man he had known for years. The invisible weight on his shoulders seemed to paralyse him, seemed to crush him.  
  
"Has he at least said anything useful?" asked Jesse, while looking out of the window in a -for him untypical- apathetic way. Mark sensed that it wasn't the best idea to tell his friend what Robert Bakins had shouted into the receiver in his morningly intoxication, so he only shook his head. The following depressing moment of silence was suddenly disturbed by a loud bang. Jesse had felt the mug sliding through his fingers, but hadn't made any attempt to catch it before it burst on the floor. He only mumbled a half-hearted curse and then knelt down to pick up the remains of the porcelain.  
  
Mark watched him for a while, then he got up from his chair and knelt down next to Jesse, who didn't make any attempt to finish this aggravating occupation as fast as possible.  
  
Mark patted his friend's shoulder. "Let me do that, Jess!", he offered gently, but Jesse shook his head. "No, Mark, that mess is my problem!"  
  
"You are too tired, you will only cut yourself!", replied Mark sensibly.  
  
"I'm used to that!", mumbled Jesse.  
  
"Am I at least allowed to help you?"  
  
Again Mark earned a strict shaking of the head. "No, I can handle that on my own, I think..."  
  
Both knowing that they weren't talking about the mug any more, Mark's and Jesse's eyes met now. Two pairs of blue eyes were watching each other, both with a glint of fear in them, a fatherly worry in the one and a guilty shame in the other.  
  
"Ok", Mark gave up and smiled softly. "But promise me to tell me if you want me to help you!"  
  
"I promise!", Jesse nodded and smiled back. Then he stood up, balancing the fragments in his hand and went over to the waste-bin  
  
Mark threw a quick glance at his watch. 3 o'clock in the morning. "Why don't you go home?", he suggested.  
  
"I'm too tired to drive, so if you don't mind I'll stay and sleep here..." Actually Jesse was tired of contradicting Mark and arguing with him. After all the elder doctor was right, he hadn't slept for hours and couldn't work in that condition, his shift was also long over.  
  
Mark knew that it wouldn't make any sense to offer Jesse to drive him home, as he would refuse anyway. So he let him settle on the couch and watched how the young medic drifted away into a petty, restless sleep. He would have loved to sit there and keep an eye on his friend, but now his cell- phone rang again and he hurried to answer the call because he didn't want to disturb Jesse.  
  
"Hello?" he said, leaving the lounge to be able to talk in a normal tone.  
  
"Hello. Who are you?" asked a serious voice at the other end of the line.  
  
"I'm doctor Mark Sloan! And who are you if you allow me that question?"  
  
"Lieutenant Steinberg, homicide detective for the NYC police departement...I'm calling from Robert Bakins office. Your number was the last one that was displayed on his phone..."  
  
"You mean he is dead?" asked Mark shocked.  
  
Steinberg looked down at the body at his feet. It had been marked with white tapes and the people from the unit for securing of evidence were running through the office in the Arthur Shane Williams Clinic, taking pictures of all parts of it, including the corp behind the desk. He had fallen to the ground, under his head there had been formed a puddle of almost fresh blood. Letting his eyes wander over the crime scene, which was not a quite unusual sight for him, Steinberg answered: "Yeah, he definetly is!"  
  
And though he didn't know the circumstances, he wasn't really surprised as he heard a heavy gulp at the other end of the line. 


	5. Wherever You Will Go

Hi again, so here is a new chapter for thsoe who always wanted to know what happened when Jesse and Susan seperated...  
  
Thanks to Regina for being so lovely and kind! You are great, kid!  
  
And to my special friend wuemsel that we all know and love, let's say it together: Obst rules! Thank you for your great Harveys, for being as freaky as me at some points and for loving scrubs! (Es geht hier einzig um die Inhalte! Äh...Themawechsel!) :-)  
  
That was short, wasn't it? Please read, have fun and review! In that order! ;-)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
So I've lately been wondering  
  
Who will be there to take my place  
  
When I'm gone you'll need love  
  
To light the shadows on your face  
  
If a great wave should fall  
  
It would fall upon us all  
  
And between the sand and stone  
  
Could you make it on your own  
  
If I could, yeah, I would  
  
I'll go wherever you will go  
  
Way up high or down low  
  
I'll go wherever you will go  
  
And maybe I'll find out  
  
A way to make it back someday  
  
To want you, to guide you  
  
Through the darkest of your days  
  
If a great wave should fall  
  
It would fall upon us all  
  
Well, I hope there's someone out there who  
  
Could bring me back to you  
  
...  
  
Runaway with my heart  
  
Runaway with my hope  
  
Runaway with my love  
  
...  
  
I know now just quite how  
  
My life and love might still go on  
  
In your heart, I your mind  
  
I'll stay with you for all of time  
  
...  
  
If I could turn back time  
  
I'll go wherever you will go  
  
If I could make you mine  
  
I'll go wherever you will go  
  
The song "Wherever You Will Go" was published in 2002 by the band "The Calling" on their album "Camino Palmero"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
About one year ago...  
  
  
  
Vicky looked up from her magazine as the bell over the entrance ringed. Quickly she jumped from the counter of the small shop whereby she nearly pushed down the rack with the bubble gums. Only a quick move by both of her hands avoided that mishap, but now she could at least throw a look at her wristwatch, which she was used to wear on her right wrist, though she was right-handed. That uncomfortable position at least prevented her from looking at the face of the watch every two minutes when the hours were, as always, passing by slowly in the little grocer's shop in Venice. It was ten to eleven.  
  
The young girl was curious to see who had entered, she loved watching people, but most of the costumers who came regularly she knew anyway. She rarely ever got to see a new face, but maybe she could at least have a little chat with the one who was now standing in the doorway, looking as though he didn't know what actually had lead him here and what he should do now.  
  
Vicky smiled delightedly. Of course, she knew the man in Jeans and the blue cotton shirt. Those blue eyes, the blonde hair and the normally mischievious grin. He came over to her to the counter, the hands, as almost always in his pockets, but he had to use them as he grabbed some milk and chips from one of the shelves.  
  
She took the things as he lay them down onto the counter, and scanned the prices. "Hi, Dr Travis, how are you?" she greeted, but one look at the young man's pale exhausted face made her wish she had never asked.  
  
He grinned wearily. "I'm fine, thanks for asking...How are you?", he inquired. She, however, believed that he had only asked to be polite, not because he was really interested. She didn't have hard feelings about that. As long as he had come to buy in this shop on his way home, he had always been in a good mood, always laughing and joking.  
  
'I am actually thinking that you are lying', she thought and was angry with herself because she didn't have the courage to say that. She was worried about him...why was he looking so sad?  
  
"Don't I get an answer?", he asked and seemed to try to smile amusedly. He had obviously paid more attention to their trivial conversation than she had guessed.  
  
"What?" she then was glad that she could still remember the question. "Uh, I'm ok. Lots of work, university, you know..."  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, I really don't want to be a student once again..."  
  
But from the way he said that she sensed that he wanted to be anything else more than himself at the moment.  
  
The cash opened with an squealing sound. 'I need to grease it...' recalled Vicky. "That would be 1,98 $!"  
  
Jesse reached for his wallett, paid and put back the change. Then he took his shoppings and turned around. Looking out of the window and seeing that water drops were already pelting against the pane, he grimaced and glanced at her. "I think, I'll have to swim to my car..."  
  
"Shall I lend you an umbrella?" offered the young shop assistant.  
  
But he shook his head. "No, thank you, Vicky..." And then he added a bit absent-mindedly: "It doesn't matter today anyway..." Then he waved a short 'bye' and left her wondering what he had wanted to tell her with that last remark.  
  
Vicky watched him stepping out and pulling his jacket over his head, then he ran through the rain to his car. She waited until the car had disappeared in the night traffic again, then she sighed and turned her attention back to her magazine. But having read two lines, she let it sink again and glared at the door. "Oh great, doc, now I'm not only bored but also in a bad mood!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse drove along the traffic-stuck highway, watching the lights that were swimming somewhere out there in that big deluge. A curtain of water was surrounding him and not even the windscreen wiper was very successful at driving out the masses of water.  
  
And also Jesse's brain was not very good at suppressing the events of the day. He really wanted it, he wanted his life to go on, but this was just too painful to be put away under the category: 'The show must go on!' Jesse laughed out sarcastically. 'The hugest failures of my life', that category would fit much better', he thought. Had it really been his mistake? Or hers? Or both? He didn't know it, right now he didn't know anything.  
  
The car in front of him took his right of way, the second time that that was happening since he had been driving. But Jesse couldn't even be angry about that. He had practically been angry for the whole day.  
  
That hadn't been one of their usual arguments which always started with banal things, a stupid remark or a stupid look at the wrong time.  
  
Jesse sighed. How he had missed that today...How much he had wanted to shout, to yell things he would have regretted at the same time they had slipped out of his mouth. As Susan and he had always done it. Then apologising, hugging, kissing, the same procedure as usually.  
  
That had been different. He hadn't said anything in rage...he hadn't talked much at all. Nothing he regretted. Everything he told her had been the truth from the deepest ground of his soul. And Susan had done the same, he believed. She had just said what she felt which was not much...at least not for him.  
  
Again Jesse's view was becoming blurred, but not because of the rain this time. If he hadn't been only a few feet away from his parking space in front the apartment house, he would have stopped the car at the roadside only to cry.  
  
Walking up the stairs Jesse removed the node on his tie and sighed relievedly when it was finally hanging loosely down his shoulders. All through his shift it had felt like a cord around his neck which was dragged tighter and tighter until it almost took him the air to breath. Jesse unlocked the door and entered his dark apartment.  
  
The dim light from outside was only about enough to make the outlines of the furniture -the couch, the table, the kitchen counter- visible, but Jesse didn't want to switch the lamps on. He let the unopened mail be unopened mail, which he carelessly threw onto the living room table.  
  
In the sheltering darkness of the kitchen the young doctor was looking through the shelves and drawers to find some Aspirin. When he had finally found it, he filled a glass with water and squeezed two pills out of the silver foil.  
  
Looking at the small white tablets on the palm of his hand, Jesse wondered for a short moment what was preventing him from swallowing the remaining content of the drug package. But after all he was doctor, he had seen what happened to people who had wanted to commit suicide and he was sure that he didn't want that to happen to him. Thinking about those patients, Jesse was surprised how well he could remember them. Not all of their names, but their faces. Whatever had brought them to the point, where their lives didn't mean anything to them any more, it had been strong enough kill those people long before they had tried to kill themselves.  
  
No, Jesse had never really thought about anything like that. For those people there hadn't been a way out, but for him, Jesse knew, there was. He had worked himself out of the misery again and again, so why bother and not do it another time. The world wouldn't stop turning only of such a small separating, such a worthless relationship being ended up. 'Only my world...', thought Jesse.  
  
He shook his head, noticing that he -at his momentary state of mind- would go mad sooner or later. He swallowed the two Aspirin and let himself slump into the couch, sighing heavily.  
  
He still could see her in front of him, he had sat right here, where he was now and she had stood towards him...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"At least tell me why!", Jesse insisted quietly. He looked up at his girlfriend, whose eyes were filled with tears like his.  
  
"You know the reasons..." Susan tried to speak objective and without letting come too much emotion into her voice. That was the only way she could imagine, which allowed her to get through this more or less intact. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched her boyfriend. A much more calmer appereance than she had expected. Susan was again getting a look at the other side of Jesse Travis. Not the funny and charming clown, but a self-controlled and serious young man, who was putting up a small wall around himself, which seemed to be low when you just looked at it, but which grew constantly if you tried to climb over it. She had tried so many times, but not very successfully as she believed. "We don't want the same, Jess, we never wanted the same. Admit it finally, it's not going to work."  
  
Jesse burried his head in his hands, pressed his fingers onto his closed eyes until he could see small green and red stars appearing in his self- made darkness. He knew what she was talking about and had to say, as painful as it maybe was, she was right. If they had ever had real relationship at all, then it had ended up being farce, a desperate attempt to save themselves from the loneliness or -and both hated to confess that- just to spare themselves exactly this last act they were both stuck in now.  
  
"So, what do you want?" Finally he lifted his face at her. Susan had been afraid of that all the time, of the glance he was wearing in his eyes now, confusion, anger, maybe guilt. As much as Jesse tried to hide how hurt he felt, his eyes never could. She didn't guess that anyone was really able to hate him. She already cursed herself for starting it that way. And she cursed Robert for kissing her practically in front of his eyes in the hall. That tempestuous idiot! It had not been his right to make Jesse get that it was over and Susan was sorry for that. But now she couldn't go a step back, but had to pull it through.  
  
"I want to go with Robert...", she answered and tried to sound convincedly.  
  
The fact that he didn't seemed to be very surprised affected her ego more than she had believed. "Your last word?", he mumbled.  
  
Susan felt as though the walls of the living room were coming towards her. "Yeah..." she nodded remorsefully.  
  
Jesse got up. "Ok.." he said, not looking at her and grabbed his jacket.  
  
"Where are you going?", she asked, nearly panicing.  
  
"To work", he replied. He had almost reached the door when he turned around again. A tear was making its way down his cheek, only one single drop of salty water, which glossed in the fading daylight. He didn't even make an attempt to wipe it away. "I will be back around midnight..."  
  
Susan got the hint that he didn't want to see her here then any more and couldn't even blame him for that. "I will be gone then..." she assured.  
  
He grimaced and wondered if he had been a bit too rude. On the other hand she had let him understand very clearly what she thought of him and how much he still meant to her. Actually she and Robert had done a very good job. He had understood. There was no space for him any more. "Have a nice life..." he smiled forcedly and added devastedly: "I'm sorry..." Then he closed the door and though he felt like smashing it, he didn't for any reasons.  
  
Susan watched the door, waiting for something that would never happen. His voice was still in the room, in her mind, remaining in the gaining silence. I'm sorry... "Me too..." muttered Susan. "Me too." Biting into her lip, she fetched her bag and started to pack her stuff. In that situation she had sensed that it wasn't a good idea to remind Jesse that his shift only started in two hours.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse woke up on his couch where he had obviously slept for hours, though he would have sworn that it had been not more than ten minutes. But a glance at his watch told him that it was a quarter past two in the morning. The Aspirin had kicked in much better than he had expected. He got up and strechted. He was still in his working clothes, only the tie had fallen to the floor when Jesse had moved uncontrolledly in his dreamed flash-backs of the hours before.  
  
He looked around in his living room and noticed something on the table, he had accidentally thrown the mail onto it. It was small sheet of paper, from the way it was folded Jesse assumed that it had once been a envelope. The message on it was hand-written, in nice, curved letters, very different to his. After years of working as a doctor Jesse had got used to the typical doctor-handwriting, small, scribbled letters, which were unreadable for anyone who didn't know his way of writing. That was definitely written by Susan:  
  
Hey,  
  
I dunno why I'm actually writing this, it won't make anything better anyway. I just wanted to say that I'm also sorry. Have a nice life.  
  
That was it. Nothing else. Not even a signature. Not sure what he was hoping to find, Jesse turned the ex-envelope around. On the other site he could recognise a part of an address. 'Kingston Drive...Santa Cruze' or something like that. Susan had been at university there. Probably something related with school, that had once been sent in this envelope.  
  
"I see how much I mean to you...", muttered Jesse bitterly and crumpled up the paper. An old school paper with a formal apologise that he wouldn't even have been willing to believe if had been spoken directly into his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
Susan held her bag tightly pressed to her body, she was aware of the fact that waiting at a bus stop in Los Angeles at midnight was risky for a woman. But what kind of choice had she actually had? After all she could hardly have asked Jesse to drive her to the airport, though, as she noticed depressedly, she could imagine that he even would have offered that, if he had known that she was now standing here, lost somewhere in the dark night.  
  
So here she was...wondering what would happen next and if she actually wanted to know. She had just ended up one of the best relationships she had ever had and also one of the most painful ones. It would never have worked, she just hadn't found what she had hoped to find. But did she knew what she was looking for? Did anyone know anyway? People always talked about their goals, about their dreams and about their hopes. About the ways they wanted their life to be. Did they really want it? Or was it just a strong addiction of the human kind to run forwards, not to stop and think what they were actually running for? They were running through their lives, sometimes head to head, sometimes together, supporting each other, but all with the same inrecognisable goal. They were running to be happy...or were they happy to be running?  
  
Often they bumped into each other and decided if they would go on as friends, strangers or enemies. Susan wondered as what Jesse would remember her. As someone he had only "bumped" into, as someone he would hate or someone he would...love. She didn't know what she wanted him to see in her. But it also didn't matter any more. From now their collective path splitted...  
  
Susan sighed relievedly as the bus finally made its way towards her. The bright lights were coming out of the blackness like eyes of a cat, wild, lurking, but cautious and curious at the same time.  
  
The driver opened the door, casting her only one short unattentive glance as she got in. She sat down on one of the empty chairs at the window and stared out into the sad lights of the traffic that surrounded her, at tired faces between those lights, worn out and only reluctantly giving the concentration the traffic regulations demanded.  
  
"What are you thinking about?", asked a voice which tore her out of her thoughts so quickly that she almost jumped. The bewilderedness and shock that here eyes reflected at first slowly settled in a still anxious, but much more angrier look.  
  
"What are you doing here?", she asked back, separating as far as she was able to from the other person by pressing her own body against the window.  
  
The tall man, though not having been invited, sank onto the seat next to hers. "Came to see you...", he replied with provoking casualness.  
  
"Go away!", she said and hissed addingly, "And never come back!"  
  
He held up his hands and grinned calmingly, which only made her angrier. "Hey, hey, Susan! I have gone on a hell of a long journey only to see you and the you tell me to fuck off? Oh no, dear, maybe Travis is the kind of guy you can treat that way, but not me!"  
  
At the mention of Jesse's -if only- family name, Susan winced. Though, the rage was still getting the better part of her. "What's your point, Danny? I don't need to listen to you! I don't need to explain my relationships to you. That's all not your business, it never was, though you never got that! So what do you want?"  
  
He ran his hand over his face and shook his head in both disbelief and slight amusement. "I'm sorry, Susan, I didn't want it to turn it out that way. I came here to talk to you. And to ask you to come with me..."  
  
"What?!", she cried out, blushing a little as she saw the three other people in the bus turning around and staring at her. Then she snorted. "If you weren't such a big jackass, one should actually admire you for naivety!"  
  
Danny sighed heavily and stretched in his chair. "Oh yeah..." he mumbled, noticing gleefully how his false wisdom made her clench her fingers. Then he stared at her piercingly. "Seems as though Travis and I have a lot in common. We were both cheated by the woman we once loved..."  
  
Susan got red with anger. As much her feelings had been mixed up before, now she felt only hatred for the man who was sitting beside her. "Jesse and you certainly don't have anything in common. He has still got a heart beating in his chest. What's in yours... a stone?" Now she noticed in a near distance the building of the Los Angeles airport.  
  
He just laughed. "You have a way in hurting people, you know!", he stated, knowing very well how much these words themselves would hurt. Then, with a sudden change of his mood from sarcastic calmness to a seemingly uncontrollable nervosity, he grabbed her wrist. "You can't just leave me, not this time!"  
  
"Stop that or I'm gonna scream!", she whispered threateningly.  
  
He shook his head. "No, you wouldn't do that! You wouldn't let arrest me!"  
  
She glared harshly at him. "Why not? I did it once, what's gonna obstruct me?" Knowing that she had hit her goal precisely, she felt how the grip around her wrist loosened.  
  
She grabbed her bag and went to the bus door, aware that Danny was watching her. When the doors opened, she slid out into the night, feeling finally secure as she was submerged in the crowd of people who were entering and leaving the airport.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Rob was waiting in the departure lounge, ready for the check-in, glancing at his watch restlessly the more time passed by. Then he spotted her coming towards him, smiling and almost running. He went over to her and took her bag, kissing her gently. "You ok, hon?", he asked worriedly as he looked into her clear blue eyes, which were still swollen, from crying as he supposed.  
  
She nodded wearily. "Yeah, I'm ok. Just lots of things to think about..."  
  
"The flight number 234 to New York City departures in twenty minutes. Please go on board now!" commanded a static loudspeeker voice.  
  
The people who had been sitting until then rose to their feet. Rob rubbed Susans back softly. "Ready to go?"  
  
She hesitated for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and nodded again.  
  
"Then let's go!" he encouraged her and when he saw her confused look he added:" All that is history now..." He pointed into the direction of the gate. "There is the future...Our future!" 


	6. Whatever Gets You Through The Day

Oh yeah, I'm back, I'm still alive. Sorry it took so long to get this part up, I was on an exchange in England and should be able to speak English now. Urm...aaahhh...well, please don't laugh at me!! ;-)  
  
Again I wanna thank all of you for the kind reviews and for the mails, I grew inches of proud because of them! You're lovely. Hope, you enjoy this chapter, please review. Thank you so much.  
  
And heyyyyyyy, Wuemsel, finally spoken to you! Obst, Obst, Obst, I looooove you, missed you and the Harveys and das Obst and die Oberhelden-Mails. See you zur nächsten Blooperbesprechung (ey süß, der lacht sich ja echt tot!) COOKIE HELL vor!  
  
Regina, this is for you, you rock kid!  
  
  
  
Before I get too over-excited about being back, I will shut up and finally let you read, what you wanted to read! Have fun!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Cause I don't think I'm brave enough  
  
To admit I'm breaking up  
  
And when the pain just tears you up  
  
The only thing you need is love  
  
So just get yourself back on it  
  
Another day is gonna come  
  
Keep on praying for it  
  
It's all just people talking  
  
Does it really matter what they say?  
  
Whatever gets you through the day  
  
That's your way  
  
'Cause I don't care who's right sometimes  
  
I wish they'd all just go away  
  
Whatever gets you through the day  
  
That's your way  
  
  
  
Taken from the song "Whatever gets you through the day", published by the 'Lighthouse Family' on the Album "Whatever gets you through the day"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Mark walked onto the deck of the beach house on the next day, Steve had already poured some coffee for his father. He himself sat, still in T- shirt and Jeans, at the table, trying to manage both reading the sports part of the LA Times and stirring in his mug. But the steady wind from ocean, that was showing itself particularly beautiful on this early morning in the Californian late fall, didn't make the job much easier for him as it tattered the thin sheets of paper in Steve's strong hands.  
  
As the part with the classified ads was carried away by the breeze, Steve finally gave it up. He put the remains of the newspaper under his coffee mug to save those at least and smiled at his father. "Good morning, dad. Why have you got up so early?"  
  
Mark yawned and shrugged slightly. He had to admit that he felt the lack of sleep. Movements seemed to be slower, thoughts seemed to be heavier, but after all he was a doctor and used to that. But he was also not the youngest any more. "I couldn't sleep..." he yawned again.  
  
"Uhu...", mumbled Steve, grinning amusedly as he noticed his fathers widely open mouth. "When did you come home?"  
  
Mark gave his son an indignant look. "I am the father here, not you...it was about four o'clock a.m. ..."  
  
"And then you couldn't sleep..." Steve asked gleefully.  
  
"I...", Mark shot his son another confused look. "Why are you interrogating me?!"  
  
Steve grinned. "A homicide detective from the NYPD has called me around 6 o'clock today. I think Steinberg was his name. He told me that a doctor named Mark Sloan phoned Robert Bakins early in the morning..."  
  
Mark held up his hands as though his son had caught him in the act of doing something illegal. "Ok...ok...I phoned him, I was about to tell you anyway..."  
  
"It's ok, dad, no hard feelings about it. Was just wondering if you'll learn somewhen to leave the investigation stuff to me..." Steve smiled. He knew that it was senseless to tell his dad not to meddle. He always found a way to do that anyway and Steve had to admitt that he was a big help. But a little less curiosity wouldn't have done much harm either. "I'm going...have a nice breakfast!" He threw the blazer over his shoulders and was about to leave, when he heard his fathers muffled voice through the pieces of a sandwich.  
  
"Wait, I'm gonna join you! Maybe we'll find out something that will help to catch that guy who drove the car... "  
  
Steve rolled his eyes friendly. "Well, I'm a homicide detective and you the most curious doctor on this side of the Mississipi....we certainly will!"  
  
Mark laughed at his son's dry comment. "Then let's go!" He got up from his chair and together they went to their cars after locking the doors.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, Johnny, what are we gonna do after the dinner?", asked a female and giggeling voice through the reciever, which made the young man's eyes sparkle mischievously.  
  
"Well, I have something in my mind..." he whispered meaningly and heard her agreeing with a passionate humming.  
  
The red-blond-haired man in the early twenties had leaned back in the chair, wobbled and stretched his fairly long legs on the desk. Considering that this wasn't his place normally, he had made himself quite comfortable. He was playing with the telephone cable in his hands and took a sip from his coke from time to time. No one either seemed to notice that Johnny was firstly not where he was supposed to be, nor that secondly he had already spent fourty minutes on the phone, which was, judging by its content, not really a call of high importance for the running police investigations.  
  
"Shouldn't you be working?", asked the voice at Johnny's ear, halfly teasing, halfly anxious.  
  
Johnny grinned wryly and looked up at the ceiling. "I've been ready for two hours and waiting for someone to tell me what to do next. And since no one seems to be interested if I am actually doing anything or not, we can also..." Johnny was interrupted by a bump and then only the sound of a dead line was audible for him. The young police officer stared at the receiver in disgust, believing that it had been the reason for this aprupt ending of his daily chat to Tina, his girlfriend, and was about to complain, when he realised some long fingers, belonging to a big male hand, resting on the cradle of the phone.  
  
Within two seconds Johnny Danfield's usual self-confidence and calmness had changed into an uncontrolled jumpiness, mixed with the look of a beaten dog. He hurried to get out of the chair, whereby he almost tipped over, and stood now in his whole height of about six feet and six inches eye to eye in front of his supervisor and mentor, trembeling and smiling emberassedly.  
  
"Mr Danfield, if you feel bored, I'd love to give you something to do!"  
  
"Whatever you want me to, Detective Sloan...", Johnny replied, standing back slowly as he saw Steve glaring at him.  
  
Steve swayed his head into the direction of a couple of boxes which stood in a corner. Johnny also looked at them and gulped. "No...", slipped it out his mouth together with a desperate sigh.  
  
Steve nodded. "Yes! My paper work of the last three months...I want all files sorted and listed by name, date and car registration number!"  
  
"Can't I just list them by one of that?", asked Johnny, but he recognised that contradicting furtherly would probably cost him his head. And he actually liked his head.  
  
"I can also saw you up and send your remains to South Africa in those boxes, if that hits your kind of taste more..." Steve offered, getting impatient. "By the way that's how we usually sort and list our files. By name for the criminal card index, by date for the archive and by car registration number to make the trainees understand that a phone on a detective's desk is for important calls and not for their personal delightments!" Steve folded his arms over his chest and shot Johnny a look he shouldn't forget for a very long time.  
  
Danfield bit on his lip and bowed his head. "I probably deserve that...", he muttered with a self-amused honesty in his tone.  
  
"I'm sure you do!", replied Steve calmly and then pointed at his father. "But before you start with your work, I want to introduce my dad to you..."  
  
Mark, who had been watching the scene with a wry and friendly smile, reached out his hand. "Hi Johnny, pleased to meet you. Especially after all the things Steve has told me..."  
  
"You couldn't wait to meet the most awful troublemaker the departement has had since the year of 1978...", Johnny finished the sentence and reached out his hand to shake Mark's, chuckeling slightly self-concussious.  
  
"Well...yeah..." agreed Mark, grinning. Somehow he was reminded of the past, the years he had taught interns and what had become of them.  
  
"Well then...", Johnny scrutinised the load of boxes and frowned. "I think I have some work to do...oh, the other stuff is on your desk by the way...", he informed Steve. "Took me some time, but we got the owner of the car, which hit that woman. No finger prints in it and no other stuff that would give us some information about the driver. I checked everything over three times. But the thief was sloppy, though. The lock of the car was completely broken, he couldn't have used it anymore. And from the way he linked the cables I can tell that he doesn't have much idea of cars. He certainly didn't steal it to cannibalize it and sell its single components."  
  
"I see..." mumbled Steve, watching his assitant in silent astonishment.  
  
"I'm gonna find someone to help me carry them into a room where I have more space..." Johnny had already three boxes in his hands and, saying that, he didn't pay any attention to where he was going and ran against a near standing desk. The boxes and their contents fell onto the floor "Should eat more fruits...", he muttered, scratching his head and looking ashamedly at the mess he had caused. Then he bent down to collect the things together again.  
  
Mark and Steve watched him leaving finally, while he tried to keep his balance under the weight of the cardboards.  
  
"Nice boy...", Mark remarked.  
  
Steve nodded. He really liked his new protegè. "Though he can be quite..."  
  
"Annoying?", laughed Mark.  
  
His son shook his head sternly. "No! Do you remember CJ's teletubby phase? That was annoying. Johnny is the walking apocalypse."  
  
Steve sighed, slumped into his chair and started to bring some order into the the files on his desk, which had been messed up by the movements of Johnny's feet earlier. Mark took place on the chair for visitors, knowing that Steve wouldn't tell him to have a seat at first.  
  
"Dad, how do you manage to teach interns in your hospital and keep your patients alive?!", Steve exclaimed and then frowned at his father. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Where's your sense of humor, son?", asked Mark, enjoying to drive his offspring crazy once again.  
  
"Bet you never had interns like Johnny Danfield, otherwise you wouldn't be smiling that evily...", Steve hissed playfully, what made Mark laugh out.  
  
"Well", the older doctor made a dramatic pause and continued prudently:"One of the most annoying ones has a well-running private praxis in Colorado by now and the definetly most annoying one is one of the best ER surgeons the CGH has ever had."  
  
Steve looked at him in disbelief. "Jack...Jesse, no! I mean, Jack was only used to the street life and Jesse is a kid, but even both could never beat Johnny!"  
  
"I was only trying to tell you that people are not always what they seem like at the first sight. And those people who seem like an open book to us are the most complicated ones. And -and Jack and Jesse are an absolute proof for that- the most capable ones. And Johnny is, too. Believe your old father, Steve..."  
  
Listening to the words of his father, Steve had to agree silently. He had seen many police officers in his life, but Johnny Danfield was different. He was clumsy and annoying, of course, but, as they had just seen, he was also clever and had, especially for his age, lots of courage.  
  
Mark knew that Steve was thinking about his advice and so he used the time of the relaxing silence between them to give himself up to his own memories for a short moment. He had helped Jack, a street kid from the ugliest parts of Brooklyn, to make his dream of the life as a caring doctor come true.  
  
And he had taught and sharpened Jesse's youthful and keen mind quite successfully. Jesse hadn't lost any of his enthusiasm with which he had come to the CGH years ago. The more Mark was depressed that he couldn't do much for him now. It always made him sad if he couldn't help in a medical way, but it really hurt if he couldn't even ease any pain by listening. Jesse, as friendly and talking as he usually was, always hid himself when he should talk about his problems, he seemed to be curl up in a small corner somewhere deep inside of himself.  
  
As his friend Mark also knew that the best aid for Jesse was time. Time heals wounds, yeah, the good old proverbs still hadn't lost any of their truths. But no one ever seemed to realize that it was mostly the coincidence which broke these old scars up again. The cruel and unpredictable life always found a way to destroy that well-build wall of surpression in a fraction of the time you had needed to put it up.  
  
"Dad?", asked Steve for the third time now, trying to catch his fathers eyes.  
  
"Uh...?" It took ages until Mark finally reacted.  
  
"Where have you been?", inquired Steve, smirking.  
  
"Time journey...", grinned Mark, being now pulled completely back into the present.  
  
"I know...me too." Father and son grinned at each other knowingly, then laughed out shortly, remembering the things they had experienced, in very different ways, but still it had taught them the same, the same passion, the same love and the same faith. And the awareness that friendship was the most important thing in this world.  
  
"We should return to the case!", Steve suggested, becoming serious again and Mark nodded his head.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse woke up on the couch, feeling dizzy and numb and barely able to get onto his feet. Quite surprisedly he noticed that he had spent the night in the doctors lounge, he hadn't even made it to the sleeping room. He could remember Mark sitting in the chair next to him and he could also remember that for the first time in years that he hadn't mind someone keeping an eye at him. He had always been someone who hated to be watched in any kind of way. For him a curious pair of eyes had always been a threat, he felt that he had to control himself in front of them.  
  
And being watched while sleeping was yet another thing. There was no way you could control your sleep, your movements. Often the best psychiatric report you could get about someone was watching that person sleeping. If they were turning around or lying still, breathing calmly or restlessly, muttering or snorring, all that was so telling that it was almost frightening.  
  
Through the window the sun beams fell into the room and had warmed up Jesse's back terribly, he felt sweat running down his spine and he was cold though. The light blinded him, it was unusually bright and piercing, that kind of light the sky only shows us at the end of summer.  
  
Suddenly his pager went off. Recalling the last time he had heard that sound, Jesse started to shiver. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to hear it again without thinking of how fast your life and your feelings could change in less than twenty-four hours. How often had Jesse told people that their beloved ones were dead, in a coma or paralysed? How often had he looked into scared eyes, had tried to comfort in every possible way, had he known that he had done everything and felt that he hadn't, though? How often had he said "I'm sorry..."?  
  
That had never been a lie, but still not the whole truth. But it seemed as though people instinctively knew that no one was able to feel the despair they experienced at that moment. It was something everyone had to feel on his own and no one expected more from a doctor than these simple words:"I'm sorry..." It was better than nothing. Then they had what they wanted and could walk away with their sorrow, not thinking about the doctor they left behind, why should they anyway? Doctors had decided to do that job, but no one ever decided to lose a member of his family.  
  
To Jesse it had always seemed like he could somehow feel with those people, those who broke down in front of him, started to cry, begged that all that was not true and those who just tried to look into his eyes controlledly and seemingly unmovedly. That he could share their pain at least a little. But now he knew that that imagination had been naive. What he usually felt was the loss of a human being, that sadness that creeps up in everyone of us when we see that we're not able to help, that selfish desire to make the world a bit better just to feel the joy and the relief.  
  
At the moment he felt as though the ground under him was drifting away, that he had nothing left that would help him to find a sense behind all this. A reason why it was happening to him. Why Susan? Why him? And there it was again, that anger, the urge to hit his fist against the wall, only to make sure that he was still alive and not caught in this invisible big bubble.  
  
With trembeling fingers Jesse switched off his beeper and crawled from the couch.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The young doctor pushed the curtain aside and scrutinised the tiny woman who had taken place on the examing table. Her left eye was framed up with a bloody red wound and swollen. She only looked up at him as he entered curtain area, frowned worriedly at his dirty scrubs, in which he had also slept, and then let sink her head again.  
  
Jesse approached cautiously. She seemed frightened and winced as he cleared his throat to say something. "Mrs Miller?" he asked, reading the chart.  
  
She nodded shyly. "Yeah..."  
  
"I'm Dr Travis..." He came closer and examined her eye carefully. "That's looks worse than it is. But tell me, how did that happen?" he questioned, starting to clean the wound.  
  
"I...I...I fell...I stood on a leddar, cleaning the windows, and...fell..." she stammered and sounded as though she needed to be conviced of that herself.  
  
Jesse frowned. "Really?" His look scaned her arms, her neck and he didn't need much time to recognise the small scars and bruises which she tried to hide under the sleeves of her shirt. Bigger and smaller ones, some were black, some had already adopted a pale blue, but were still predominating on the likewise pale and seemingly transparent skin. Other scars were circular with white regular margins, typical traces that were left by put- out cigaretts. Dr Travis had seen those kind of wounds more often than he liked to admitt and sadly also knew how patients reacted to those questions as he had just asked. And whatever Mrs Miller was going to say, it would be a lie. A simple, scared lie that he wasn't going to believe. He would treat her and she would go home and they would meet again, sooner or later.  
  
"Really...", she affirmed slowly. As he had assumed. The simpliest lie of all. Most women didn't realize that those could cost them their lifes.  
  
"Mandy? Mandy?! Oh my God, what happened?" A man suddenly ran through the ER and rushed towards the doctor and the victim of a window-cleaning.  
  
The man was about ten years older than Jesse's patient, unshaved and dressed in working clothes. Once he had reached his supposed wife, he hugged her and kissed her gently. She didn't fight against that, but Jesse saw her apathetic glance, how reserved and scared her small and thin body leaned against her husband and almost unrecognisable tried to pull away from his firm and strong grib at the same time.  
  
"Mandy is my wife...What happened?", inquired the tall, black-haired man and stroked her shoulder.  
  
She winced one more time. "Fell off the leddar...", she mumbled.  
  
"But you are ok, aren't you? Is she ok, doctor...?"  
  
"Travis. Dr Travis. The wound isn't that bad..." Jesse glared at Mr Miller's out-reached hand and didn't shake it.  
  
"I want to drive her home!" ordered the guy, looking anxiously. Jesse clenched his hands around the clipboard as he looked disgustedly into the angular face, that false pity, that artificial worry.  
  
"If she wants to join you, she can go after that wound has been fixed..." mumbled Jesse through gritted teeth and threw the girl a pleading glance. Maybe she would have the courage to defend herself against her husband, that man she obviously was afraid of, that man who seemed so understanding now, although Jesse could see that brutal glare in his eyes, the obsession of violence burning in them.  
  
His heart sank as the girl nodded again. An obsequious shy nod, hardly to recognise.  
  
Probably nothing would have happened. Probably Jesse just would have headed off. Probably he would have been cursing his job and his helplessness for the rest of this day.  
  
If not....  
  
"I'll take care of you!", whispered the man into his wife's ear.  
  
Hearing those words, Jesse, who was about to leave, whirled around again. Something in his mind had just snapped. How could men actually do that to women? Playing the role of a good friend perfectly on the outside and batter them at the same time? What kind of people did that? Jesse didn't want to imagine what this man had done to his wife already and what he was about to do. How long did you have to beat people until they ran out of proud, out of fighting-spirit and out of soul?  
  
"No, you won't!" Jesse shouted suddenly,  
  
"Sorry?" Mr Miller got up, his eyes sparkeling threateningly.  
  
"I said you won't take her home!", Jesse persisted, calmer now, but with a firm voice.  
  
The tall man came towards him, forming fists with his fingers. "And what, doctor, is gonna obstruct me?" he asked and grinned amusedly. "You?"  
  
Jesse took a deep breath. He was frightened, but he had the feeling that he would never be able to look into a woman's eyes again if he gave up now. "Do you think I didn't see the scars?!", he hissed. "For how long have you been beating her up? Since your marriage? Or did you wait until you were back from honeymoon?" He looked into the other's face humorlessly.  
  
Miller's lip started to tremble in bare rage. "I love my wife. That is pure impertinence!" he shouted in rage, stepping closer to the young doctor.  
  
"I agree with you there!", shot Jesse back, his blue eyes sparkeling with pure hatred. "And you love her, yeah? Look at her, she's scared of you!"  
  
In the ER it had suddenly become very quiet. Everything focussed on the two men in the middle of the curtain area, everybody watched them glaring at each other and didn't know if they should be impressed by Dr. Travis' courage or shake their heads about his stupidity to make a pointless attempt to help somebody who didn't want to be rescued. As an employee at a hospital he should have known better than to meddle in those things.  
  
So they just watched the scene in breathless excitement, the more-than- angry, tall Mr Miller, the thin fragile woman and the short, normally good- natured and patient doctor, whose stubborness was written all over his face. Was this guy only determined or just tired of life?  
  
"What?!", screamed now Mr Miller, trying to force Jesse to stay back, but the doctor didn't move only one inch.  
  
"Gentlemen, what's going on?" No one had realised Brandon Dawn who had pushed himself between the two arguing men.  
  
"Who are you?", asked Miller harshly.  
  
"Hospital administration, may I ask if you have any problems?" questioned Dawn politely.  
  
"In fact, I have one, yeah!", snorted Miller. "Or does it belong to the usual service here that your residents insult hard-working men?"  
  
"I am sure that this is a misunderstanding, right, Dr Terner?", Dawn shot the ER surgeon a look, begging him silently to nod his head.  
  
"Not at all! Or is it usual that men beat up their wifes?" Jesse retorted provokingly.  
  
"That's unbelievable!" shouted Mandy Miller's husband and one could see that he wasn't far from beating up someone else.  
  
"Dr Taylor!" warned Dawn, feeling awkward and by the way didn't know what to believe.  
  
Whatever he had said wrong, he very soon noticed that it had pushed the young resident kinda to far.  
  
"Travis, damnit, my name is Travis!" Jesse wasn't able to prevent his outburst. He just couldn't. "Why are you meddling anyway? Do you have any idea of that stuff? What do you think are you doing? Annoy the people who try to work, with that stupid adminstration stuff. You don't even know their names! It might sound strange to you, but here are people who have serious problems, so why don't you just shut up and leave me alone!?"  
  
Brandon Dawn wasn't used to the knowledge that everyone had mistakes, neither he liked his being shouted through the half part of the hospital. Only the fact that he also wasn't used to rebellious doctors kept himself from replying anything.  
  
"And you..." Jesse pointed his finger a Mr Miller, pausing one moment as though he was searching for the right words. Dawn, the Millers and the remaining nurses and interns saw the sharp look in those usually so soft blue eyes.What they couldn't see were the by now still well-hidden tears in them. Then Jesse laughed out sarcastically."You ain't even worth this shouting..."  
  
The following silence lasted for ages. No one dared to say something, to move or even to breath. They seemed like a life-size statue, though none of them knew what they were actually performing.  
  
Jesse nodded weakly and looked around, his empty gaze striking each of them. "The show is over...", he mumbled and turned to go. No one tried to hinder him. As he passed by Amanda who had been watching the scene stunnedly, she sensed to hold him back, had already reached out her hand after his wrist when she was reminded of the last time she had done that. "Don't Amanda. Whatever you're up to say, please don't!"  
  
When the resident was finally out of sight, Mr Miller whirled around to face his wife. "Mandy, get up, we're going!" Not even waiting until she was standing on her feet, he grabbed her hand roughly and dragged her away. Again she didn't fight against it, she just looked even more distraught than before.  
  
"Believe me, I'm terribly sorry!" Dawn had found his tongue again, but as no one seemed to listen to him any more he swallowed his words and sighed. He would talk to Dr....whatever his name was....later. Right now he could do without a row very well for a while. 


	7. Mine

Heyyyyyylooo, I'm still alive! So here is my new chapter. All disclaimners apply. The song "Mine" isn't mine *g*, but belongs to Savage Garden.  
  
Special thanks to Regina for being so damn patient with me!  
  
Special thanks to Wuemsel for great discussions about short stuff and for loadsa commercial breaks that I'm really gonna miss! (and for not beating me up because my recorder forgot the giggling! Next time, I promise)  
  
And a great thanks to Anna, I dunno what I would without you, tall stuff! And always remember: Queuing! (who cares about the spelling, u know what I mean!!)  
  
Now this is for all of you who have had the patience to read this. I really appreciate your reviews and thank you so much for the support! I hope you're still enjoying the story, please keep reviewing, I just love your feedback!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I wait in the darkness  
  
Frozen winds surround my face.  
  
In the cover of darkness I can make believe it's you.  
  
I feel you like the rain, I feel you like a storm cloud  
  
building in my heart.  
  
....  
  
A hand brushes by my love. A smile fuels steel inferno  
  
You don't have to die to leave my world.  
  
Stand still and you've departed.  
  
It seems I'm not on your mind  
  
I'm just wasting my time.  
  
I'm just a fool to believe  
  
In the death of the night can you feel me inside?  
  
I wish that you could conceive  
  
....  
  
Won't you leave me in the darkness  
  
Take away all my pride and dignity that's burning inside  
  
...  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Jesse pushed open the doors of the emergency exit and stumbled outside. I didn't know how he had managed to run down all those stairs without falling even once. Maybe he had because it actually didn't matter to him if he would fall and break his neck. There had never been many things in his life which did really matter to him, but until now life itself had mostly been part of those. He had a job, he had friends, he had a life...but nothing of that did matter right now and also hadn't done a few minutes ago.  
  
He panted and grabbed the wobbly banister that hemed the stairs which leaded down to the small park next to the hospital. As he felt the cold steel between his fingers, Jesse noticed how warm his own hands had become and when he put one hand onto his cheek he felt that his face was burning, too. It seemed as though all that bottled up emotions had warmed up his body and were running through his veins like a scaring, bitter tasting drug.  
  
Jesse shook his head, closed his eyes, opened them again. "So much for keeping your emotions to yourself!", he blamed himself loudlessly, still trying to get what he had just done. He had shouted at his supervisor, he had behaved completely stupidly and...oh my god, he had done it again....  
  
Realization kicked in, directly into the young doctor's stomach, so hard that he struggled to keep himself on his feet. He had to face it, he had behaved completely irresponsibly again. Mr Miller had seemed so furious at the end that Jesse didn't want to imagine what he could possibly do to his wife. What if...only thinking of that made nausea crawl up his body. If anything happended to Mandy Miller, it would be his fault.  
  
The sun shone through the treetops of the oaks that were planted in park, it drew shadows on his face and on the badly jointed, clinically white walls behind him. The light was still bright, but the air was vaporous, it made one feel numb and sleepy. The doctor, who was standing in front of the big hospital building, looked lost and still clenched his fingers seemingly subconsciously around the steel of the banister. His shoulders were tensed, his breaths shuddered and irregular and his incisors drilled into the inside of his lip until it was bleeding and a strong bitter taste of blood touched his tongue.  
  
Finally Jesse gave it up. He had to face that he was just too weak, the voice in his his mind which kept telling him that one order "Don't dare to cry!" fainted slowly.  
  
All he heard now were his memories, Susan's voice, when she spoke, when she laughed, when she cried, when she yelled at him. All he felt were the joy when her lips had touched his, the warmth when they had giggled together, the regrets because he had hurt her and let himself being hurt by her and the pain that tore his heart in two, now that he realised how much he loved her and that he would maybe never get that chance to tell her that.  
  
His eyes became wet and tears started to roll down his cheeks, and though they were dried immediatly by the sun beams, they still left salty remains on his face. First sobs broke free and uncovered his bloody lips. No matter how hard he tried to wipe the tears away with his arms, new ones were streaming down his face again and again. A grown-up man who was crying silently like a small child and also felt like one right now, so he stood there for some time as though the world had stopped turning.  
  
Then Jesse was able to breath in deeply for the first time and to wipe the water from his face, from his eyelids and eyelashs to see clearly. He didn't feel much better than before, just emptier, but in a good way, he wasn't angry any more, he was just sad.  
  
Still he didn't want go back inside, especially since he could imagine how he looked like now with swollen eyes and red, wet glossing face.  
  
So he just remained waiting there, for a miracle, for someone to wake him up from this nightmare, for someone to tell him an answer to all those questions.  
  
What he hadn't waited for was a sharp smell that struck his nose now. He needed a few moments to realize the cloth that was pressed onto his nose and mouth by a strong hand coming from behind him. The attacker obviously had sneaked up at him and calculated that Jesse in his totally desolate shape wouldn't notice him. He had counted rightly. Jesse was completely caught by surprise as he was forced to breath in the chloroform.  
  
He knew that he had no chance. He was not in the state of defending against that guy successfully, aftermaths from his breakdown still showed in little sobs that forced him to take deep breaths.  
  
The attacker felt the body of the much shorter man slowly getting weaker in his arms. The muscles stopped cramping and the doctor gradually lost his balance and couldn't hold his upper body erect anymore. When unconcussiousness had finally gained the upper hand of the man in scrubs the man behind him pulled his arm away and Jesse landed hard on the floor.  
  
He didn't struggle and fight anymore, but since people are always heavier and more unwieldly when they are unconcussious, the attacker had still some trouble to drag the limp body away. Probably that was the reason why he didn't notice that something had slipped out of Jesse's pocket.  
  
The attacker just sneered amusedly. Now the play had begun.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I can't believe he did that!" said Mark Sloan, completely stunned by Amanda's description of the event earlier.  
  
"I neither would if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!", replied Amanda as they walked into the doctor lounge together. "I mean, probably he was right, probably that man really beats his wife, but as doctor with so much experience he should know that yelling at those people doesn't help anybody."  
  
"I doubt that he doesn't know it..." Mark took a sip from his coffee winced because it was still too hot. "Maybe he just...forgot it..."  
  
"He seemed to forget a lot lately", muttered Amanda and when Mark gave her a slightly reproachful look, she bowed her head. "I worry about him, Mark, it just makes me so furious that he doesn't talk to us. After all he should know by now that we're his friends, I want to help him..."  
  
Mark nodded understandingly. "I know, Amanda, I also worry about Jesse. And the worst thing is that it was my mistake not to talk to him when there was still a chance that he would also talk to me..."  
  
"Mark, it's not your fault that he doesn't want to talk to anybody. Oh God, if he actually knows what he is doing? I most likely wanted to grab him and shake him as long as he talks to me..." the pathologist threw her arms into the air in despair. "How do you that, Mark? How can you be so patient?"  
  
Mark hesitated to give an answer. Was he really patient? He didn't feel patient, he felt awfully worried and as soon as he met Jesse he would make him talk to him, no matter how good his excuses would be that time. God, he really had fatherly feelings about him. Thinking about that Mark could finally bring himself to answer Amanda's question:"Long years of experience..."  
  
Amanda glanced at him, admitting that Mark had a good point. Steve and Jesse quite similar when it came to their own feelings. When you knew how to handle the one you could also handle the other one. But what caused that fear to talk, that deep sarcasm that made both men hard to understand at a some point? Was it shame? Amanda didn't want to start a psychological discussion, but she secretly wondered if she would ever understand it.  
  
"It's pride..." said Mark suddenly as though he had been reading her thoughts. Sometimes his knowledge of human nature was almost scaring.  
  
  
  
Maybe he would have had explained that theory, but the moment was disturbed by a completely distraught hospital administrator who was waddeling into the lounge by now.  
  
"Dr Stone, we've gotta talk!", Brandon Dawn said importantly and tried to look determinedly.  
  
"Sloan but never mind..." corrected Mark again and sighed deeply. He knew what he would have to bear now and he didn't like it.  
  
"Sloan, ok with me..." Dawn spoke outragedly and didn't excuse for his mistake as always. He was having other problems. "Do you know where I can find Dr Travis?"  
  
Mark shook his head, secretly relieved that he didn't even have to lie to spare Jesse Dawn's unsensitive remarks.  
  
"Too bad! If you see him, tell him that I wanna talk to him immediatly!"  
  
"Okay, I will."  
  
"I'm sure you heard about what happened earlier!"  
  
"Yeah, I believe, I did!"  
  
"Well, tell him that he should better have a very very good explanation for his behaviour or else..." Dawn was at a loss of words, but he was the only one who didn't like that situation.  
  
"Yeah, I will, Mr Dawn...don't you have a conference or something like that?" Mark asked hopefully.  
  
Dawn looked at his watch. "Oh yeah, I'm already late!" with those words he hurried off.  
  
Mark and Amanda rolled their eyes at the short, but annoying appereance of the new administrator. Knowingly they gave each other a look. Mark chuckled. "I'd better go and find Jesse before Dawn does!"  
  
Amanda nodded and they left the doctor lounge, leaving as always two half filled mugs with going cold coffee. The pathologist headed back to the pathology lab and Mark went looking for Jesse, though he didn't have a real idea where he should search.  
  
He finally headed to the exit to the small park behind the hospital. That was a good place for people who didn't want to be found for any reason as the door was hardly ever used and even from the parking lot you didn't have a very good look at the stairs in front of it. What shouldn't be seen mostly remained unseen there, and so did crying doctors Mark assumed. If he had known how right he was...  
  
But when Mark stood in front of the stairs he didn't find anything. Not at all Jesse as he had hoped. He had expected a crouched person, maybe crying, maybe just starring into the emptiness of the late fall air. He had been looking for a child, a man who -now that he thought that no one could see him- was showing his true emotions. A man who would show his weakness now that he felt...save. Wasn't that weird? That people sometimes felt save when they were alone? Far away from the people they loved? Those who knew them? Maybe that was a reason why we sometimes hide from those people. You can only be hurt by people who know you. And the truth always hurts.  
  
However, Mark had to learn that he didn't seem to know Jesse as well as he had thought. Jesse wasn't there. He actually seemed to have become invisible. He was just no where ton be found.  
  
Mark scanned the park in its strange unreal light and considered where he should look next. He had looked everywhere. You could almost say that he had spared this place till the end. He didn't really know why. He had just been so sure to find Jesse here that he had thought he could give him some time more alone. And all the time he had been searching Mark had thought of what he would say to Jesse. He hadn't come to a final result, but since Jesse wasn't here Mark knew he would get his time to think. Where should he look next?  
  
More or less accidently Mark glanced on the floor, but as he bent down to pick up what he had found he didn't remember why he had actually done that. Now he was holding an ID in his hands, it was passport. 'Susan Hilliard' read the stern black letters next to a picture of hers. As everyone does on passport pics also Susan's image looked pale and quite unhappy and Mark noticed sadly that the difference between the real Susan Hilliard and that lifeless and strange seeming picture was kinda small by now.  
  
  
  
"But that doesn't make any sense!" Amanda whispered confusedly for the third time now.  
  
She and Mark hadn't dared to settle in the lounge again, but instead stood at the reception desk where they could pretend to be busy with things which were of high importance for the budget or the efficienty as soon as Brandon Dawn showed up. The only disadvantage they had was that they had to discuss in a low voice since there was always the risk that curious nurses or interns would hear them and come to their very own interesting conclusions which the wouldn't hesitate to spread through the whole hospital.  
  
"Of course it doesn't, but there must be a logical explanation for this...", mumbled Mark who starred again at that ID as though he had been hoping to find all answers in the scaring pale face on the picture. "How does Susan's passport reach an almost never used entrance of our hospital? And where is Jesse? I tried to page him several times, but...", he murmured, thinking heavily.  
  
"I don't know, I only know that an ID can't walk and that we should hurry and find Jesse before he totally snaps out ..." replied Amanda impatiently.  
  
At that moment Tom Chandler, the young paramedic, approached them slowly. "Hey Dr Sloan!", he greeted friendly.  
  
Mark lifted his hand absent-minded. "Hi Tom! How's work going?"  
  
"Can't complain.." Tom shrugged when he noticed the passport in Mark's hand. "How is she?", he inquired, pointing at Susan's ID.  
  
"Who?" Mark asked surprisedly, then he noticed the direction of Tom's fingers.  
  
"The young woman we brought in last night. Dr Travis' patient...did he know her? He seemed kinda nervous after he had seen her ID", Tom said, seeing Mark's eyes growing wide.  
  
"You gave him this passport?", he questioned.  
  
Tom nodded. "He asked for an ID and I gave him that. I had used it earlier to fill in the protocoll..."  
  
"And did he give it back to you?" Mark asked.  
  
Tom thought for a moment, then shook head convincedly. "No, I'm quite sure that he didn't. He saw it, seemed rather shocked to me and then...I think he put it into the pocket of his scrubs, but..."  
  
Mark's and Amanda's eyes met suddenly, and both could read in the other one's eyes that they were guessing exactly the same.  
  
"I don't like that....", mumbled Amanda. "Somehow I don't like that..." 


	8. One Of These Days

Hey ya, I'm back! Did you miss me...oh please, don't answer it! So hey, thank you so mush for your reviews and support and everything! It's so great! And still special thanks to Wuemsel, the one and only "Brain", to Regina, the dancing queen and Anna, my tall stuff!  
  
All disclaimers apply and then there is still the thing with the song: The song "One Of These Days" is not mine, but was sung and published by LeAnn Rimes on the album "I Need You". And I don't own the programme "ER"! (double duh!)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Read 'n' enjoy...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Wish someone would tell me when  
  
I won't think of you again  
  
I'll get past the emptiness and  
  
Let a little happiness back in  
  
Pretending that you came  
  
Leaves me half way there  
  
One of these one of these days  
  
I'll be completely over you  
  
Heaven knows how long it will take  
  
And one of these one of these days  
  
I'll find somebody who'll love your memories away  
  
One of these days  
  
One of these days  
  
Some how some way  
  
Ever since you've been gone  
  
Time has a way of dragging on and on  
  
Friends drive by for company  
  
But i'm not much company for long  
  
Oh i'll get past the what was  
  
If i live long enough  
  
One of these one of these days  
  
I'll be completely over you  
  
Heaven knows how long it will take  
  
And one of these one of these days  
  
I'll find somebody who'll love your memories away some way  
  
One of these days  
  
One of these days  
  
Some how some way  
  
One of these one of these days  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve rubbed his face and and looked desperately at the mess on the table in the doctor's lounge. It was covered with files, biographies, photographs, with everything that he had got from the LAPD and was related to Susan in any way. There were files about Greg Hutchens who Jesse and Susan had met some years ago and who died shortly after they had figured out that Greg was hiding a fortune from the tax bureaus. There were formulars from nursery school and the UC Santa Cruze where Susan had studied, files from the police departement in Santa Cruze though there wasn't much in them apart from some unpaid parking tickets. Steve shook his head. Where it was hard to reconstruct the life of a person by the official traces that person had left somewhere in parking tickets and college formulars, it was even harder to find out what all that had to do with a murder, an attempted murder and a kidnapping. Jesse's car was still in the parking lot and the owner nowhere to be found and considering the circumstances, they assumed the worst.  
  
"I gotta admitt I just don't get it...", Steve mumbled.  
  
"I don't either, but it must be in here somewhere. Whoever kidnapped Jesse, probably tried to murder Susan and already murdered Robert Bakins", said Mark, reading the files interestedly.  
  
"Oh, that makes me feel better! Not only we don't have that guy, we also know that he doesn't hesitate to kill people!", retorted Steve.  
  
"I know you're worried, but you won't help him by going crazy. Try to think logically!"  
  
"But that isn't logical!", exclaimed Steve. "Why should anybody try to kill Susan? Or Jesse? Why them?"  
  
"I have the feeling that only Susan can tell us that, which isn't possible as she still is in a coma. So we must figure it out ourselves!", Mark tried to convince Steve of finally putting aside his incoherent behaviour and think like a cop. The matter was that Steve thought like a brother at the moment and Mark couldn't blame him for that.  
  
"Why are you sure that he was kidnapped anyway?", inquired Johnny who was leaning against the doorframe, munching unidentifical hospital food.  
  
"Because he is nowhere to be found!", Steve barked impatiently.  
  
"I was just thinking...". started Johnny, but was harshly interrupted by the lieutenant.  
  
"Do me a favor and stop thinking!"  
  
"I only wanna help!", mumbled Johnny, mouthful of pudding.  
  
"By raiding the hospital cantine?!"  
  
"I can think better when I've eaten something..."  
  
"Haven't I just told you not to think?!"  
  
"Ok guys, that's enough now!", Mark cut in, sounding quite unnervedly. He hated it when he had to get resolute, but at this moment there seemed to be no other possibility. Normally he would have chuckled about his son behaving like a big child towards someone he should actually be an authority for, but right now he didn't appreciate that childish behaviour at all. He had the terrible idea that something had happened to Jesse which would lead to horrible consequences if they didn't do anything...fast...  
  
A guilty silence filled the air, both Johnny and Steve stared absent-minded into the room, inside feeling slightly emberrassed once they had realised that they were really behaving like two big kids.  
  
"Sorry..." Mark heard two boyish voices and nodded satisfiedly.  
  
Steve took a deep breath. "We must find out if anybody has seen anything around here. It's impossible that a man can just vanish without anyone noticing it."  
  
"The security cameras...", murmured Johnny.  
  
"Oh, great idea! You don't really think the kidnapper parks his car in the parking lot of the hospital! We live in the twenty-first century, that guy can't be so stupid that he doesn't know that security cams are installed almost everywhere!", Steve replied, but suddenly doubted his own statement when he saw his father's eyes sparkle which was a typical sign for Mark having an idea.  
  
"Wait Steve...maybe that idea really wasn't that bad..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse slowly drifted back to consciousness and opened his eyes, blinked once and when that didn't seem to help, twice. But everything remained dark in front of his eyes and a dull pain washed over his head. As soon as he was fully awake a heavy cough shook his whole body, bringing back the blurred memories into his dizzy mind within a second.  
  
He meant to smell sedatives and suddenly was convinced to feel someone pressing a chloroform-soaked cloth onto his mouth. Panic rose again in his body, tensed every muscle and made him reach out his hand in order to defend somehow against that invisible attacker who seemed to be hidden in the endless dark.  
  
But slowly Jesse got aware of the fact that no one had a hold on him, that there was no one around at all, only darkness which just wouldn't vanish no matter how often he blinked, struggled, rubbed over his eyes with his hands. He came to the final conclusion that he had to do something, move in some way and so Jesse backed up on his ellbowes.  
  
He only didn't get far. After he had lifted his head only a few inches, it smashed against the ceiling of the hell-knew-what it was he was lying in. With a painful moan and among several curses Jesse sank back to his former position like nailed to floor and once again tried to get a view at anything. But he just couldn't see!  
  
Cautiously he reached out his hands, trying to get a grib at any of his surroundings, but earned nothing more than the awareness that the room he was kept in was barely bigger than himself. He couldn't stretch out his full body length, couldn't sit up, not to mention stand. 'I wanna see Steve in here...', he thought almost gleefully before he concentrated back on that thing that was his jail, but also realized that it was becoming more and more difficult for him to breath.  
  
A new wave of panic stroke him as his last attempt free himself from this swallowing darkness failed. He was caught, wherever he was, he couldn't get out.  
  
Again he drew a deep breath, but the air in this room was stuffy and hot, not any kind of air his lungs demanded to breath in so urgently. Jesse now noticed that he had made a big mistake by moving so much while knowing that it wouldn't help him because it had cost far too much energy and -more important- too much oxygen.  
  
The young doctor had learned about signs of heavy dyspnoea and once that those were gaining the upper hand of his already shaken weak system he decided that he it was even worse that he had imagined. As a doctor you stop at a certain point thinking about pain and how it makes you feel and just treat it. But pain could be so different. It could burn you up, pierce you, tear you or just nag on you without you noticing it yourself.  
  
Parts of his body started to get limb while others were already completely numb, he sweated like hell and nausea swept over him from time to time. The only thing that he wanted to do was close his eyes, give in to the urge to faid but on the other hand he was too afraid that if he now driften away, he would never be able to return. However, he knew that he was suffocating and had basically no chance left to fight against it any longer.  
  
Jesse just hoped that they would find him..in time. And though his friends surely would never have let him down, he wasn't sure if they, unintentionelly of course, wouldn't be able to help him now. 'Probably not this time...', was his last thought before he lost consciousness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Here it is!", Johnny held up a tape as he entered the lounge, grinning triumphingly.  
  
"Great, so you could convince them to give it to you!", Mark looked happily, quite sure that on that tape was the key to what they were hoping to find.  
  
"Actually I could convince Sheila...she is one of the security guards, looks really sexy in uniform, I can tell ya..." Johnny started overexcitedly, but when he earned a more than sharp glance from Steve he grew serious again. "So..erm...did you find out anything?"  
  
Steve shook his head. "Not really..." then he looked at his father who was about to push the tape into the recorder that Dawn's predecessor had generously donated for the poor under- paid and over-worked docs who could now relax in the lounge while watching all ER-Seasons that were already released on video.  
  
Mark, however, believed that what they would find on that tape, if they did find something, it wasn't all to their happiness.  
  
Steve sighed and threw is dad a reproachful glance. "Now won't you let me die stupid! Where is that tape from and how will it help us to find Jesse?..."  
  
"That would have been my question, too!", Johnny interrupted.  
  
In the meantime Mark had settled on a chair and at Steve's and Johnny's curious eyes, then started to explain:"I told you earlier that I went looking für Jesse and was actually believing to find him near the emergency exit..it's a very good place for hiding..."  
  
"Yeah and don't forget that's it's even better for letting yourself being kidnapped since no one will ever find a trace of you there!", Steve added sarcastically, nagging his lip furiously. He would never forgive himself if he didn't find his best friend.  
  
Mark ignored his son's remark and went on:"You know, near that exit is a car park, but it's also hardly ever used. That's why years ago the administration decided not to have a cam installed there."  
  
"But let me guess, they did now...", Steve asked mischieviously.  
  
Mark grinned at his son. "Exactly...but that was not long ago, so there are still the shields which say that there is no camera taping...on that tape is everything, from the time Jesse was last seen in ER 'till the moment I found Susan's passport...let's see if we're lucky..."  
  
He switched on the television and the recorder and soon a zoom over the mainly empty car park appeared on the screen. In fact, only a few minutes had passed until a black car drove slowly into one of the parking spaces and a man got out. But instead of going towards the main entrance of tha hospital he chose another direction, to the park behind the CGH.  
  
Another few minutes passed until he came back, but...Steve, Johnny and Mark gasped in shock. The man was pushing something next to himself what looked like a very limb body.  
  
"That's Jesse, to hundred percent!", Steve mumbled.  
  
The stranger didn't exactly treat the obviously unconscious Jesse like what one would call cautiously. He pushed and dragged with pure violence until the weak form was lying on the back seat of the black car.  
  
Steve had seen enough. "Okay, I will take that thing to the station and have it worked over digitally. Then we should be able to make out the car registration number!"  
  
  
  
  
  
They were able to indeed. About half an hour after they had sent the car registration number of the black Rover into every police car in LA they really got a hint.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve turned the wheel heavily to the site, and made a emergency break as his car impended to crash into the police cars which were already parked on the scrapyard in the 4th street. Johnny sighed relievedly. If he had thought that he had one wild way to drive, he knew better now. The lieutenant scanned his protegès pale face and almost had to grin:"Everything okay?"  
  
Johnny breathed in deeply. "Y-yeah...I think so..." He shyly removed his hands from the seat, his fingers had cramped tightly around the edge. "Apart from the fact that my stomach and my liver changed places, I guess..."  
  
"You'll get used to it!", Steve loosened his seat belt and got out of his car. Mark had just got out of his as also Johnny came to his feet, stumbling. They walked over to a man who seemed to be responsible for this yard and who, to their relief, was too stunned and excited by being interrogated by the police that he was really more than willing to give information. "He was right over there!", he shouted even before Steve could show his bandage.  
  
"Yeah, you know, I had just went looking how my new employee was doing his work at the scrap-press and when I returned I saw that man and he saw me and then he jumped into his car and drove away...", the excited man said.  
  
"Was there someone else in the car?", Mark inquired.  
  
The man thought and shook his head. "No, I don't think so..."  
  
"What did he do here?", questioned Steve.  
  
The yard keeper again shook his head. "I don't know. Of course, I went looking if he had done any damage, but there wasn't any...not at the first sight at least. Then I called the police...you know, just in case...and your colleagues told me that you're looking for that car..."  
  
"Thanks", Steve smiled friendly and the turned to Johnny and his dad. "Great? But where is Jess?", he whispered.  
  
"If he wasn't in the car and is not here...then...", Mark's brain was already running on wheels.  
  
"The car trunks!", Johnny suddenly exclaimed.  
  
"What?" Mark and Steve asked in unison.  
  
"You know, in a book I once read there was that guy...and...I don't know what he did, but he locked that other guy in a car trunk on a scrapyard...", explained Johnny.  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "Lovely! But tell me that book didn't say how he was found by any chance. Because I don't know if you noticed it, but here are hell a lot of cars and hell a lot of trunks!"  
  
Johnny hung his head. "Nooo, as far as I can remember that guy wasn't found at all..."  
  
"But maybe we'll be luckier...", Mark held his hands up appeasingly as he saw how Steve was near exploding. "Those cars here are covered with dust...when we go looking for a car which was touched recently, we should be able to find..." he didn't even have enough time to finish the sentence when Steve already had ordered the police officers to search for such a car and also Johnny made his way towards the area that the keeper had shown them.  
  
Steve and Mark remained standing where they were for moment.  
  
"And what if that's all rubbish?", Steve whispered, not daring to let his worries come into his tone. "If he isn't here at all, then...we're just wasting our time..."  
  
Mark nodded merely and gave his son an understanding look. "I know Steve...but if he really is here, we may be rescuing his life..."  
  
  
  
Johnny had been strolling along the coutless lines of old broken cars, looking carefully at each of the vehicles when he noticed the trunk of an old blue Mercedes that was clean in some places. It could've been the print of a hand, though Johnny wasn't too sure about that. "Lieutenant! Mark! Here is something!", he called while already trying to open the trunk. "What's up?", panted Steve, coming to stop next to Johnny, his dad right behind him.  
  
"There are fingerprints, I think!", Johnny was already trying to force open the trunk, but it was jammed.  
  
'God bless the pocket knifes...' thought Steve when he pulled his out of his pocket and stuck it into the lock. He turned it to the left and to the right and suddenly they heard a click.  
  
Steve opened the trunk with shivering hands and by the time it was open He, his dad and Johnny gasped even heavier than when they had as they had watched the tape from the security cam.  
  
Before them was lying Jesse, crouched, with pale, almost blue skin as Steve noticed horrorfiedly and sweat covered body, a big bruise over his temple. A movement of his chest was hardly noticable and for a moment Steve wasn't sure if his friend was dead or alive.  
  
At the moment he saw his friend Mark's heart stopped. As cowered as he lay there he reminded him of a small child, sleeping peacefully, but from the lifeless expression on Jesse's face you could tell that it wasn't a nap on the couch, but a walk on the line between death and life.  
  
After something that wasn't more like two seconds of shock which seemed to be an eternity for all of them, they reacted quickly. Steve carefully lifted his friend out of the car. He had almost hoped to be beaten while trying that, hoping for any signs of Jesse being alive, for him realising what was happening to him, but Jesse's small form remained still in his arms and also when he lay him onto the ground.  
  
Mark knelt down next to his friend and gently slapped whose cheek. "Jesse...can you hear me?..." Then he suddenly froze. Where there had been a small movement of the chest, however, hardly to see, there was know nothing.  
  
"Steve he's stopped breathing, we gotta start CPR!", Mark commanded plainly, already pressing down his hands onto Jesse's chest.  
  
Steve reacted fast, put his lips onto his friend's, simply praying that they hadn't been too late. "C'mon, Jess, breath! Don't leave us here like this, please Jesse, just breath in!", he muttered while staring at Jesse's face pleadingly before he started the next breath.  
  
Their hearts raced, even Johnny's who had only been watching, stunned, astounded and scared at the same time. And also he sighed in relief there was finally the long awaited gasp.  
  
Jesse coughed and winced heavily and tried to free himself from Mark's and Steve's firm gribs which were hurting actually. Once more he drew a deep breath.  
  
Father and son wiped the sweat off their faces and looked at each other, smiling satisfiedly at the regular lifting and sinking of Jesse's chest.  
  
"He really scared the hell outta me!", Steve admitted once he had found his voice again.  
  
Mark nodded and answered under breath:"Me too, son!...Me too!" 


	9. Friends

Hey ya, yeahp, it's me again. So here's a new chappy just for you. Thank you for all the nice reviews, I really appreciated them.  
  
Thanks to Brain for her great new story (READ IT NOW!!!) and for Obst, some sweet SMS (Scheibenheizung), happiness because of x-mas pox, I-m-s (ich schreibs jetzt nicht aus, sonst denken die sonstwas!!) vor!!! Have good meal, JeyK!! ;-)  
  
And also thanks to Fussel for really collecting that stuff, can't tell how moved I am!! Love ya, honey!  
  
And hey, Reggie, you're back kid, yeah!  
  
Now I wish all of you a merry x-mas and great New Year, may the Santa bless ya with loadsa presents!! :-)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I hope the day will be a lighter highway  
  
For friends are found on every road  
  
Can you ever think of any better way  
  
For the lost and weary travellers to go  
  
Making friends for the world to see  
  
Let the people know you got what you need  
  
With a friend at hand you will see the light  
  
If your friends are there then everything's all right  
  
It seems to me a crime that we should age  
  
These fragile times should never slip us by  
  
A time you never can or shall erase  
  
As friends together watch their childhood fly  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Jesse opened his eyes, he was quite astonished that he was able to see something. A numb pain was pounding in his head and causing him a slight nausea, but at least that horrible darkness was gone. He rubbed over his eyes and scanned his surroundings which looked very familar to him, though he didn't even really know why.  
  
"Hey", sounded Marks voice from the door, "so you finally woke up!"  
  
Jesse looked rather puzzled at his friend who peered through the door and nodded merely. His brain only slowly started to work properly again. "What...what happened?", thousands of questions clattered through Jesse's mind within seconds, but that was the only most simple one he wanted to speak out for a start.  
  
"We can talk about that later, Jess...interested in a coffee?" Mark sensed that all the past events were a little too much for his young friend, on empty stomach at least. Jesse again answered Mark's gentle offer with a confused nod.  
  
  
  
A little later he was sitting fully dressed at the kitchen table and thankfully sipped on a strong black coffee while he listened to Mark's story in growing disbelief. "A car trunk?", he asked, just to make sure that he hadn't got anything wrong.  
  
Now it was Mark's turn to nod his head, while he saw worriedly how his friend's pale face grimaced in shock. And even though Jesse seemed to have understood everything the older doctor had told, he was totally stone- faced, just like his thoughts were going their own ways into directions which were different to those Mark wanted to lead them.  
  
Hoping that, if he went on speaking, he would be able to turn Jesse's attention back to him, Mark said:"We got you out there just in time. You were...in a rather bad condition..." He didn't think that it was necessary to scare his friend even more by telling him that he had practically been more dead than alive. "After we had checked you over at the hospital I thought it was maybe the best idea to bring you here to get some rest..." Mark almost had to grin when he saw Jesse throwing him a confused glance. "I had given you strong sedatives...that's why you slept most of the time..."  
  
A, however small, grin hushed over Jesse's face, the first in the past two days. "Why do I still ask?", he mumbled amusedly.  
  
"Well, sometimes you don't leave me much of a choice...", laughed Mark, relieved to watch some color returning to Jesse's face.  
  
The young doctor giggled, but then he suddenly said earnestly: "Thank you, Mark. I didn't intend to be so much trouble for you...I'll go home as soon as I've finished this coffee. My shift at the CGH starts off in..."  
  
"Don't even think of it, Mister!", Mark interrupted sternly. "You need to rest!"  
  
"But I'm okay!", lied Jesse. A lie he had told far too often in the past days, he sensed, at Mark's strict shaking of the head. "I feel better while working...really...", he added dejectedly, now telling at least partly the truth. Working was what he had always done to deal with his problems.  
  
"I see", Mark answered in way that made Jesse lift his head quickly. "You feel so good that you start making random accusings and yelling at hospital administrators..." He knew that that was all he had to say. He could see his friend cowering like a small child that was blamed for breaking a plate. Mark hadn't intended to blame him, but he was certain that the best way to get through to Jesse was to appeal at his sensibility. And the fact that his friend was probably blaming himself for what he had done made it a whole lot easier for Mark. Considering that, it felt cruel to the older doctor. But what kind of a choice did he have?  
  
Jesse felt guilty, Mark didn't know how right he was. He had tried to strike Mandy Miller; Brandon Dawn and...Susan out of his mind and just to sit there and enjoy his coffee, but he should have known that Mark wouldn't let him of the hook that easily. Jesse shortly closed his eyes. What the heck had he done in the past days? How could he have been so stupid? And everything because of...her. His heart was racing again.  
  
Mark looked at Jesse worriedly and was afraid that he had been a bit too direct. In fear of an inevitable breakdown he put a reassuring hand on the young doctor's arm, only waiting for what would happen next. Why did he fear Jesse's reaction at all? "You okay? Are you in pain?...", he inquired and practically had to shake Jesse out of his apathetic shape again.  
  
Jesse simply could imagine what his friend had asked and nodded. Then he bowed his head. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"You don't have to be sorry!", answered Mark who was, honestly, almost surprised that Jesse had obviously still enough strength left to pull himself together to amazingly. If he hadn't know better, Mark would have guessed that his own son had been giving lessons to Jesse. Maybe it was a fear of being young. Putting up those great efforts to be grown-up these boys often didn't seem to realize how childish all that was. Mark had been the same when he was younger and experience had taught him that very few people could survive with this strategy for long. At some point you were only hating yourself...  
  
"Jess..." Mark started carefully. Jesse subconsciously tensed. Something in Mark's tone scared him. Very soon Mark would ask him questions he would neither be able to answer nor to dismiss quick-wittedly.  
  
"You know you can't go on like this. Why don't you talk to me?" Mark's words cut into Jesse's mind like a well sharpened knife.  
  
"I...I...", he stammered, searching for words. He didn't know the answer at all. "You wouldn't understand that..." was the cheapest answer that come to his mind.  
  
Mark raised one eyebrow. "Try me...I understand a lot of things..."  
  
Jesse smiled sadly. Oh yeah, probably Mark was right. Probably Mark would get it better than he did himself...why did everyone seem to know him so well? "This is different...I don't understand it myself...", he mumbled remorsefully.  
  
Mark shook his head. Why couldn't he get through to him? That man was like his own son to him and yet seemed to be so far away that he couldn't reach him at all. "I won't let you off the hook like that!", he replied, fearing that it had sounded to threatening at the same time it had slipped out of his mouth.  
  
Jesse couldn't meet his mentor's eyes. He looked away, out of the window, then into his coffee mug, onto his hands. "You can't force me!", he murmured through gritted teeth. He was just sick of being treated like a child. He was sick of those pityful looks, sick of everyone being worried about him....hell, he wasn't the one to worry about! He was okay and if he continued telling this himself, he maybe would be able to believe it at some point. "You're right, I can't force you! But I don't want any harm to you, my friend. I wanna help you!", Mark started his last attempt, putting all the urge into his words he was still able to give after those long tiring hours of worrying sick about his friend. He felt exhausted. Kids very straining, even if they weren't the own. And it didn't matter if they were five or fifteen, twenty-five or forty-five, they were always trouble. A trouble every parent loved to put up with. Trouble that was weaker than the joy they made one feel you, but still sometimes they were demanding all the patience one had and even more than that.  
  
"How do you wanna help me?", snapped Jesse and jumped up, suddenly feeling that he wasn't able to stay calm anymore. He had to shout that whole mess outta him and he simply wished that it wouldn't be Mark that it hit. "You do understand me?! Then c'mon, explain it to me, please!! Why the heck did someone want to kill Susan?! Why did she come back?! Why does it have to be me?! Why doesn't anybody seem to understand that I just want to be left alone?! Can you explain that to me, Mark?!"  
  
Mark closed his eyes. He hated himself for thinking that, but Jesse was indeed behaving completely irrationally. At one moment he was calm, then the next second simply furious and he had a point there since Mark didn't understand him at all. People had different ways to deal with worry and sorrow and Jesse seemed to deal with it by turning into a walking time- bomb. Seeing his young friend standing in front of the window, the roaring ocean in his back, Mark was almost scared of him. And still his worries were simply growing bigger with each minute he stared into Jesse's blue hard-glossing eyes. Mark knew those eyes. That hatred-filled glare, that hostile sparkle. That was the moment he noticed that he seen it earlier. That hatred wasn't against him, he knew that. It was the same rage he had witnessed in another pair of eyes years ago...  
  
When Mark didn't seem to react in any way at his out-break, Jesse stopped yelling. He only remained standing in front of the window, listening to his words that still sounded in his ears. "I'm sorry", he stammered plainly. Then he rushed out onto the terrace. He had to be alone. Mark simply watched him hurrying off. Those few seconds had made some things clearer for him. Now he maybe knew how he was going to help Jesse. In fact he wouldn't help him at all. Someone else had to do it.  
  
  
  
Jesse almost crashed into Steve who was walking up the stairs to his fathers deck. He actually hadn't awaited Jesse being awake, considering that mass of sedatives Mark had thrown into the young doctor, but as he could see, Jesse was awake and the way he looked Steve felt that it wasn't a good idea to ask him how he had slept. So Steve tried something more neutral:"Hi Jess, what's u...."  
  
He stopped when he noticed that Jesse completely ignored him. The lieutenant watched his friend stomping away through the sand and shrugged. Hell, what did he know what was going on? He would catch that sick guy who had tried to murder Susan Hilliard...and maybe had succeeded. That was his way of being a friend.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was about an hour later when Steve found himself walking up the beach, considering what he would say to his friend. He was scared and didn't even know why. He just wasn't good at those things. He was tolerant and understanding, nevertheless Steve Sloan believed that he was one of the worst listeners you could find on this earth and an even worse talker. When Steve approached Jesse, who was sitting in the sand and had leaned against a wooden trunk, from the site, his dad's words hushed through Steve's mind:"You maybe understand him better than I do, son. Please, just try it!"  
  
So Steve would try, but he couldn't fight the feeling that he would fail with coloured flags.  
  
"Hey", he heard himself saying, looking down at his friend, who cowered against the trunk. "Can I help ya?" Oh, that was a terrific way to start a conversation, Steve cursed inwardly.  
  
Jesse winced at those words, but he didn't feel like getting mad again. He simply continued staring at the deep blue sea. "Yeah", he mumbled slowly, "please tell me that I am the greatest stupid fool you've ever known! That'd be the truth at least."  
  
"I was going to, but now that you ruined the punch-line, it's kinda lost its temptation..." Steve shrugged as he bent down next to his friend and smiled sympathically. He could see how much Jesse struggled with himself to hide the broken man behind his cynical way. He could only guess what his friend was feeling now, but if he was right he knew that feeling all to well.  
  
Jesse smiled wryly. "You still can choose between me being an idiot because behaving like I did or a jerk for yelling at your dad, though he only wanted to be nice or ignoring all of you just wanted to be nice..."  
  
"Stop that, I think I got the point!", Steve interrupted him.  
  
"Wouldn't be too certain!", Jesse laughed out nervously.  
  
Steve remained silent for a moment. "You know", he said then, "I think we're very much alike..."  
  
"Oh sure!", his friend replied sarcastically. "I mean, look at us, we could practically be twins!"  
  
"Okay, I started it wrong..."  
  
"Don't say...."  
  
"Okay, gimme another attempt....", Steve requested, suddenly becoming very earnest. "When...uh...when my mom...died...I didn't talk with anybody about it. I thought if I waited long enough, it would become better...that the pain would just..."  
  
"vanish...", Jesse ended the sentence and Steve nodded merely.  
  
"Yeah, probably...but it didn't and at the end I was only furious. Mad at me, mad at everybody, mad at her because she had done that to me...I...I almost went nuts..."  
  
Jesse nodded. There was a long moment of silence when both men followed their own thoughts. Thoughts of the past, the present. To Steve surprise it was his friend who spoke first. "I'm simply scared of losing her, Steve...forever...I thought if I ignore that, it would all turn out to be a nightmare...a...oh hell, I didn't know what I thought. I'm scared, that's all. I had really thought that it was over her...damnit, I deserve it. I'm such a jerk!"  
  
Steve plainly shook his head. "No, you aren't, Jess. She means something to you, there's nothing wrong about it. And no one deserves what you're going through. It just happens. Are you listening to me? It only happens!" He put as much urge into his words as possible, knowing the meaning of that. He could still remember how much he had wanted to hear that once he had been in a similar situation. That depending on the love of people wasn't wrong and that some things just happened you didn't have any control over. "We have one thing in common, Jesse...we both hate losing the control..."  
  
His friend nodded merely. Steve was so right. He was right with everything, but especially that. He threw Steve a look. "How did you go back to 'normal'?"  
  
Steve laughed out, recalling the scene. "There was a cop at the police departement who liked me for unknown reasons. When he saw, how down I was he tried to talk to me...when that didn't work, he took me aside and I the clip of my life around the ears. He said that I had the choice. I could run away from my problems furtherly and get something that was far more painful than that hit or I could finally return to sensibility and face my fears...that was probably what I had needed." He smiled in memory of good old Hanson. That man had been great and right after his dad the wisest guy Steve had ever met.  
  
Jesse listened in astonishment and bowed his head. "Maybe I would have needed that, too..."  
  
"In case you've been hoping for me to beat you, I gotta disappoint you...", Steve grinned wryly.  
  
Jesse shook his head. "I wasn't..."  
  
They both remained sitting and watching the waves floating the beach.  
  
"Thank you...", murmured Jesse, feeling slightly emberassed as he always felt in situation where he was missing the words for the demands. But fortunately Steve seemed to understand. "No problem, pal...", he smiled.  
  
"Just tell me one thing...", Jesse suddenly raised his voice amusedly, "where have you learned that, you know, like, being wise..."  
  
"I had some good teachers...", answered Steve, smiling, but lost in thoughts. Maybe he had really had. Maybe Hanson, his dad, all those guys he had always admired for their coolness and their experience had really left something to him. Even if it was only a smal percent of their own gifts, Steve would already have been more than proud to have that. And he felt proud right now. He felt like a friend.  
  
Jesse got up and cleaned his clothes from the sand and was up to go.  
  
"Where are you going?", asked Steve torn out of thought by his friend's sudden departure.  
  
"I'm gonna face some things...", Jesse replied, thoughtfully. "And I'm gonna start with a pretty huge apology I owe to your father."  
  
Steve nodded. "Good luck!"  
  
Jesse grinned slightly. "Thanks...see ya later, pal!"  
  
Saying that he walked off and left Steve to his thoughts, his memories of a time he loved and hated to remember...maybe it was good to stick to the past sometimes.  
  
Who did actually know what would come next?  
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
  
  
  
  
Well, so hope you enjoyed it bit, though there's really not happening anything *blush*. Sorry again for doing that English to you!! Reviews are always appreciated!  
  
Disclaimer: The song "Friends" was sung by Elton John. 


	10. I'm With You

Hey ya, hope you've had a nice Christmas with loadsa presents and stuff and now we can all go one writing happily. I really appreciated your reviews, they made me grown inches (and bet that's necessary! *g*)  
  
This is for Brain, for a great present (Haddock rules!), for the theory that male actors really have a tough time acting in some places. ("Now that's really amazing...very well done..."), for discvovering that there are some many good people on earth and for Leered which is an amazing story, no matter what you think because you stories are always great!! Basta! (Waaaaatschen, yeah!!)  
  
This is for Anna, for The Bus Pics (ain't we all a bit...you know?), for being a great friend all the time and for being a bit addicted to this stuff.  
  
This is for Reggie for being a great writer and a lovely kid and for the nice previews I get from you! (Love them!)  
  
And, of course, this is also for the rest of you who encouraged me so much with reviews and mails and who were and still are so patient with me, my English and my ideas.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
All disclaimers apply. I don't own the song "I'm with you", it was sung and published by Avril Lavigne on her album "Let Go" in 2002.  
  
  
  
  
  
I'm standing on a bridge  
  
I'm waiting in the dark  
  
I thought that you'd be here by now  
  
There's nothing but rain  
  
No footsteps on the ground  
  
I'm listening but there's no sound  
  
Isn't anyone trying to find me  
  
Won't somebody come to take me home  
  
It's a damn cold night  
  
Trying to figure out this life  
  
Won't you take me by the hand  
  
Take me somewhere new  
  
I don't know who you are but I  
  
I'm with you  
  
I'm looking for a place  
  
I'm searching for a face  
  
Is anybody here I know  
  
Cause nothing's going right  
  
And everything's a mess  
  
And no one likes to be alone...  
  
  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark had been putting up with his old coffee machine that didn't seem to have any intention to pour out some of the liquid it was actually meant to produce. The major fight had been going on since Steve had left. That was Mark Sloan. He always needed something to do, especially when he was waiting for something of high importance for him. Right now he had to admitt that he we was nervous and addingly rather impatient. Keeping his mind off things he couldn't change anyway was a good way to cope with them.  
  
He didn't look up immediately when he heard a door being closed. He was only relieved that it wasn't slammed. Slammed doors were always a bad sign.  
  
Jesse shut the door as quietly as he could. He didn't know why he was scared of making any noise entering the house, he simply felt that it wasn't his right to disturb this seeming peace. It wasn't even his right to be here and that was what bothered him most of all. Mark had been there for him, always, no matter what and he had shouted at him, blamed him for being able to understand...hell, what had he been thinking?  
  
As he had told Steve earlier Jesse hadn't been thinking anything at all and as he sadly had to face, that had happened to him quite often lately. It was really time to wake up.  
  
"Hey", he said unsurely and remained next to the dining room table from where he could see Mark standing a the kitchen counter. The older doctor into the otherone's eyes, calm and waiting as always. Mark knew exactly what he was waiting for. So Steve had have luck or maybe even more than that.  
  
Jesse was chewing on his lip. He didn't know where he should start. There were so many things he simply wanted to apologize for and on the other hand he believed it wasn't as easy as that. He was responsible for what he had said and only an apology, even a honest one, wouldn't be able to take those things back. "I'm sorry...awfully sorry...", the words had slipped out of his mouth before he could think of some more weighty ones. "I...I...didn't mean to shout at you or to blame you or whatever...I just wanted to get rid of my anger somehow...oh God, I could kick myself...", by the time he said that Jesse hit his fist onto the table and cursed slightly as his knuckles stroke the hard wood. Then he pulled himself together and went on, "Listen, I'm sorry for the mess I caused, I'm sorry because I behaved the way I did towards you, Amanda and Steve and probably everyone else I met in the past days...including that stupid Brandon Dawn...I know that you were only trying to help me, I have known it from the moment you threw me out of the trauma room...I just...", Jesse noticed horrorfiedly, that his voice faided slowly and was impending to be drowned by suddenly upcoming sobs.  
  
Also Mark had noticed that and as much as he hated it to see his friend crying, he was relieved that Jesse finally seemed to trust him again. Nevertheless he most likely wanted to start crying himself as he watched how the young doctor sank onto a chair and burried his face in his hands. Mark sighed and walked over to his friend who sat on that wooden chair and cowered and cried quietly.  
  
When he was approaching Jesse, Mark heard muffled voice from behind the fingers which were already dropping of tears. "You know, I just thought I could cope with that alone..." Jesse removed his fingers from his eyes to face the man he admired so much, the man who had taught him so much, in medical way and otherwise. The way he looked at the older doctor was even enough to shock an experienced man like Mark Sloan beyond believe. He couldn't remember that he had ever seen Jesse like this. With red framed eyes, water covered face and words coming out of his mouth that really hurt Mark more than anything else than Jesse had said before. What Jesse had said before had been spoken in rage, in a state that wasn't to be understood rationally, but right now was talking in the pure awareness of what was happening to him. "...but I failed, Mark..."  
  
It was something like a confession. A simple confession, contenting everything that Jesse regretted so much.  
  
Mark shook his head and put one hand on his friend's quivering shoulder. "No, Jess, you didn't! It's as easy as that...you haven't failed!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It were exactly those words that were making their rounds in Jesse's hands some hours later when he walked through the corridors of the CGH, heading for the ICU. Still he wasn't too sure about Mark's answer. The feeling in his stomach that was trying to convince him that he should turn around had grown stronger all time he was going.  
  
As he had left the the lounge, where he had refused Mark's offer to join him, as he had entered and exited the elevator, as he had greeted some passing by nurses friendly and as he had hidded behind a corner to be not discovered by Brandon Dawn, who the last person he wanted to have a little chat with now, all his way the fear he felt had turned his stomach around and practically taken him the air to breath.  
  
He sorta knew what would be awaiting him. It was not the first victim of a car accident that he would get to see, but it was most certainly he was going to see that caused him to shiver so badly that he clenched the finger hard in the pockets of his scrubs to pretend a calm distance that was usually expected from a good doctor like him.  
  
'Good doctor' was term that had often appeared recently, between Mark's words and Steve's, the thoughts of things connected to a good doctor, which he had ever heard from his time at Medical School until the "ER" eppis he had watched half-asleep on the couch in the doctor's lounge, continued stalking his mind. 'Good doctors keep distance', 'Good doctors stay cool in every situation, 'Good doctors realize when they can't handle a situation emotinally and ask someone else to take over...' Last mentioned had turned out to be his absolute favorite. As far as Jesse could remember that one was from one of his professors at Med School, a small man with eyes like a snake who only turned out to be a human being once a student had filled some 45 % Whiskey into his coffee mug.  
  
Jesse chuckled sarcastically and then called himself to order. Oh great, he was going nuts.  
  
By the time he said 'Hi' to the nurse in charge of the ICU and was himself greeted with a friendly 'Hi, Doctor Travis!', he secretly wondered if he was really a doctor right now that he was walking quietly along the corridor of this dead-silent area. For the first time in years he realized that smell of formaldehyde, antibiotics, a sterile small of hospital that you hated first it touched your nose and never would notice again once you were used to it. To Jesse it felt as though he had lost his 'doctor' by the moment he opened the door to the room which had windows to the corridor, but those were covered by closed Venetain blinds. He was a visitor, a layman who was scared of this simply because he couldn't understand it.  
  
Closing the door behind him, Jesse took a deep breath and made a step forward. He stared at the bed where there was lying Susan. Tubes and wires connected her body to the machines that were beeping next to her and giving her the support she needed to be alive right now. She had lost weight and color and her closed eye lids were shimmering in a weird sick blue.  
  
Jesse felt his heart pounding against his ribs. She looked so helpless, not that cute helplessness that guys normally about girls, but that awful helplessness, one of the kind that made you feel helpless yourself. For a moment he only wanted to throw up, puk that sorrow just out of his body like some wrong food his body was defending against. But the only thing he did was drawing a deep breath and writh himself out of his frozen posture in which he had remained close to the door as though he was about to run away.  
  
He wouldn't run away. Not this time. This time he was stuck in the situation and had to deal with it, he couldn't just grab his jacket and leave her like he had done it about one year ago. He didn't feel guilty for what he had done then. But he felt that he owed her something now. Even if it was only this. Even if it was only being here. She needed him and, as he had to admitt to himself, he needed her, too, somehow.  
  
When Jesse sat down at the edge of the bed, he only could remember the good times they had shared. What they had been through together. Maybe Susan could also remember. As he took her hand, he noticed how cold it was, how lifeless, how pale compared to his. He felt so stupid. How had it ever occured to him that for the two of them all this was play of dignity, revenge, of hurting each other?  
  
He remained like this for ages, holding her hand, simply thinking of so many things, trying to sort the chaos in his head, the memories, the present and still some of the 'good doctors, bad doctors' terms. And he recalled one of the advices Mark had given him earlier. "Talk to her. You never know what people hear..."  
  
By the time Jesse had found his tongue, his eyes were getting wet again. What if it was all for nothing? If she had already...died? He hadn't wanted to think of that possibilty, but he wasn't able to prevent it. 'A patient is clinically dead when there are no noticible...', the definition for death he had learned at Med school stroke his mind.  
  
  
  
He squeezed her hand slightly and felt tears whelming up in him again. "I'm here, Susan. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I'm here..."  
  
For him this wasn't and had never been a matter of medical terms. It was a matter of faith you put in people. And right now he didn't have much of a choice than to hope and to fear. He knew better feelings than that. Steve had been right, he hated to lose control. Depending on an unknown destiny was like....wasn't like anything, was only cruel. It was even worse than depending on persons...though at the moment those two things very deeply connected in Jesse's opinion. Yet, the only thing he had to rely on...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Dr Travis left the ICU several hours later, he was wrapped up in some kind of a trance. He had practically been thrown out by the head nurse and from what she had said, that he should get something to eat and a few hours of sleep, he could guess very well what kind of impression he might gave right now. He had spent the past few hours in all stages of moods, from being happy about a memory that popped up in his mind while talking, along merciless disillusionment when getting no respond, down to deepest despair as often as he realized that he maybe would never be able to get a respond again. All that had been so unreal, so far away from earth on the one hand, so damn realistic and close to the unfair life on the other hand.  
  
The first nurse that gave him a chart to sign was like fingers that were snapped in front of his eyes. Doctor-mode was kicking in again and along with it the strong need of coffee. Before entering the lounge Mark had caught up his friend. "Hey, how are you?", he inquired.  
  
Jesse swayed his head. "Have felt better...", he mumbled and tried to smile at the older man.  
  
The other one nodded understandingly. "You should get some rest. You look exhausted..."  
  
"I'd already be happy with a cup of coffee..."  
  
"There we have something in common, my friend..."  
  
They both smiled slyly and headed for the lounge where they were quite surprised to find Steve and Johnny, sitting at a table where they had spread police files all over. The two of them turned around when the two doctors entered.  
  
Steve looked up at Jesse, who poured some coffee in two mugs, and waited until his friend had sat down. "Jess...", he said calmly, "I really don't want to upset you, but you need to answer me some questions..."  
  
  
  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
  
  
  
  
Hey again! I know this is going pretty slow, please don't beat me! I'm really doing what I can though it's neither good nor useful. Hope you enjoy this a bit, though! 


	11. Voice Of My Blood

Hey again! You might have thought (hoped?) that I broke my neck while skiing in the mountains. No way! You don't get rid of me that easy! Har har! Well, here is my chapter, I thought Steve and Johnny could need a bit movement and you're welcome to join them to what they're gonna find out! And of course Shortstuff is in this to! Thank you all again for your kind reviews and being to patient and lovely and everything and I hate myself for being so slow and so useless at English! So here is the chaaaaapter, finally!! (There a small references to the 4th chapter made, just in case you can't recall...which would be absolutely my fault...*blush*)  
  
Thanks to Wuemsel for being the best rat I've ever known, for helping me find out when there are weekends in lower sachsen (wise-cracking not appreciated here! tehe), for her great Warlock thing and for loads of urm...cream! ;-)  
  
And here is a special thanks to Anna who's definitly in need of a good- looking, cute, short, blond, blue-eyed doc at the moment. Maybe you know the song already! ;-) Bless you, tall stuff!  
  
All disclaimers apply. The song "Voice Of My Blood" isn't mine, but was written and published by the German singing duo Orange Blue on the album "In Love With A Dream" in 2000. Oh btw, Hansel and Gretel ain't my figures either, they belong to some weird German brothers, called Grimm, though I guess they won't complain since they have been dead for...errr...a couple of years.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Don't know if it's worth waiting for you  
  
Again  
  
Don't know if it's worth telling you  
  
About the rain inside me  
  
Feel like I'm losing control  
  
Of my pride  
  
Never thought that one touch could change a life  
  
But I guess this magic was only in me  
  
You are the voice of my blood  
  
The scent of my life  
  
The gentle valley among my montains inside  
  
Why are you building these walls  
  
Or aren't they as high as they seem  
  
I can't ask you 'bout golden wings  
  
'Cause you don't know me  
  
And I fear you wouldn't believe me the truth  
  
But there are still some honest people in this game  
  
What we're talking about  
  
I guess I wasn't there  
  
You're the voice of my blood...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse had actually got what Steve was about to say even before his friend had come to finish the sentence. He had been waiting for this and, as he noticed rather surprisedly now, somehow been expecting it. Yet, his blood was pounding through his ears, he simply knew that all the things that hadn't been a matter when he had said at Susan's bedside, would become somewhat of a matter now. I quite knew about questions that were ususally asked in an attempted murder case and assumed that those he would be asked weren't going to be much more pleasant than in normal cases.  
  
In all the haste in which thoughts rattered through his mind, Jesse hadn't realized that he had frozen in the middle of the lounge. Only the gentle touch of Mark's hand on his shoulder reminded him of where he was and dragged him back into reality. "Are you ready for this, Jess?..."  
  
Jesse was about to nod his head, but suddenly didn't feel like lying anymore. Hell, they probably could quite figure it out themselves that you were never ready for anything like that. "No...", he answered slowly, seeing heavy clouds on Steve's face that were wrapped by understanding, though. "But...", he continued, "guess I have no choice if I wanna help..." 'And not end up being more bother than help again', he added ruefully in his thoughts.  
  
Steve sighed inwardly. His friend seemed to have come back to his senses. So he waited until Jesse had sat down and sipped two times on his coffee, then Steve let himself sink onto a chair at the opposite edge of the table to face the young doctor who, as the lieutenant noticed horrorfiedly, looked scared. Scared of him.  
  
Jesse indeed was terrified. Steve glance was hard, objective, he looked like that cop he always was in interrogations, searching for facts, for the inevitable truth, no matter how much coolness it demanded. But even more than he feared Steve's cop-mode Jesse was frightened of his own ex- boyfriend-mode kicking in. He could only pray that he would manage to get on with it this time. No, he wouldn't freak out! Not this time!  
  
"Have you noticed anything about the guy who kidnapped you?", Steve started the interrogation with a huge lump in his throat.  
  
Jesse shook his head and also at Johnny's hopeful "Anything at all?" he remained silent for a few seconds.  
  
"Nothing...I only recall someone was pressing a cloth with chloroform onto my mouth and nose...next thing I know is that I woke up being locked in a car trunk..." Mark saw his friend grimacing in pain at the memory and felt an awful pity for him.  
  
"Do you have any idea what your kidnapper wanted from you?", Steve asked out of routine and kicked himself for it metally as soon as he watched Jesse's head jerking up.  
  
Jesse shot his friend a sharp, cynical glare. "Wouldn't put my finger on it, but since he locked me in a car trunk and didn't seem to have the intention to help me outta there again, I suggest that he wanted me to suffocate!", he hissed through gritted teeth.  
  
"Alright, sorry, Jess...", Steve apologised. He didn't blame Jesse for reacting like that. Nevertheless he would go on with more hard facts that Jesse wasn't going to like. "You know that Robert Bakins was murdered..."  
  
"Yeah...", Jesse mumbled, shadows growing visibly on his face. "Well, I assume that the man who killed Robert also tried to murder Susan and kidnapped you."  
  
"Sounds logically to me", said the young doctor, forcing himself not even to think of becoming too emotional.  
  
"Do you have an idea who might wants to kill Susan? Or Robert?"  
  
Jesse shook his head. He was really trying to think of anything possible, but his head was just empty. "I don't know..."  
  
"Why did she come to LA in the first place?", Johnny asked, believing that that was a good question. But looking into Steve's face told him that his supervisor either could hide his affection very well or wasn't too happy about his protegè's enthusiasm. "Sorry", he murmured remorsefully.  
  
Jesse answered the question nevertheless. "I'm sorry, I don't know..." Hearing that very sentence coming out of his mouth as the only one he was able to give as information, felt rather depressing to him. He felt completely useless. Susan had never needed him, she had been stubborn and self-confident, that was why he loved her so much. And now he couldn't do anything more for her than simply say "I don't know..."  
  
"Is there someone in her past that might...", Johnny started a new attempt, but this time Steve cut in.  
  
"Johnny, I'm the detective, I ask the smart questions and I suggest you'll go and wait outside!"  
  
"But..."  
  
"Don't but me, just go!"  
  
Johnny left the room, mumbling something about only wanting to help, and Steve, his father and Jesse remained where they were. "Steve...", Jesse started slowly, "You're not being fair. He doesn't have anything to do with this. You are mad at me, aren't you?"  
  
Two big blue eyes met Steve who felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin. The only thing he wanted was finally do something. "No, I'm not mad at you, I'm only impatient. I'm only trying to help. Try to think back, Jess, do you remember anything about Robert or Susan or anybody she's ever been in contact with? Uni maybe?..."  
  
Jesse sighed deeply. He remembered Greg, Susan's can't-decide-wether-to-be- dead-or-alive-guy they had met once in Carmel. He remembered her talking about highschool friends, stuff you laughed at and then forgot, nothing to care about. "No, Steve...I don't know anything..."  
  
Steve let out a long stressed breath, scratching his temple. "That's okay, Jess, I..."  
  
He jumped at the crash when Jesse's head hit the table, however softly. In all his frustration the young doctor had let sink his head onto the palms of his hands and deeper until his forehead touched the wooden plate. "It's not okay. I don't know anything about her...I have no idea what to do!", Jesse told the table.  
  
Mark and Steve glanced at each other worriedly, wishing that they would have any idea at least.  
  
  
  
Johnny, in the meantime, was grateful for the fact that in hospitals almost every room had windows instead of walls. That made spying a lot easier than he remembered it from several Christmas Eves when he had been a little boy. He could see the despair in doctor Travis' eyes shortly before whose head stroke the table in the lounge and could even hear the words that were spoken inside. He felt slightly emberassed. Johnny being Johnny was not the kind of man who took things like being thrown-out or yelled-at personally in any way. But this was one of the very few moments when Johnny had really a huge understanding for it. Maybe he had been a bit too straight.  
  
In his thoughts Johnny got only vaguely aware of the fact that the little group had got up and was about to leave the room. He hurried along the corridor, over to a group of chairs and quickly grabbed a magazine that was lying on a table in the waiting hall. Of course, no one would ever have guessed that he had been spying, but he just wanted to make sure that no one would get a wrong idea.  
  
"Hey...", suddenly said someone next to him and when Johnny looked up, he saw Dr. Travis smiling friendly at him.  
  
"Hey...", greeted Johnny.  
  
"I think Steve's looking for you and..."  
  
"I'd better find him before he finds me?", Johnny ended the sentence, not being able to cover an amused smile, neither was his vis a vis.  
  
"You smoke?", Jesse all of suddenly inquired.  
  
Johnny frowned. "No...uh...why?"  
  
"That's good...otherwise I'd have suggested that you hold that stuff the other way round..."  
  
Johnny now for the first time scanned the alibi-magazine in his hands. There was a picture of a cigarrette in it, but somehow it seemed...the wrong way around. The young officer blushed. "Ups...dunno, that always happens to me...I...uh...it's some kind of dyslexia, you know...at College I couldn't read some stuff and also newspapers are difficult...but the worst, really the worst are envelopments, God you can't imagine..." He laughed nervously. Somehow he got the feeling that his story wasn't very believable which, nevertheless, wasn't a fact that kept Johnny from detailing it.  
  
So he didn't even notice the sudden glim of an up-coming idea in Jesse's eyes. "That's an idea...", he murmured.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"This is it!", Jesse, no matter how much he wanted to help, was quite reluctant when he handed the piece of paper to his best friend, who sat on the seat next to him at BBQ Bob's. "I...I don't know if it's anything, but maybe..."  
  
Steve read the few letters that were written on the site of the paper that Jesse had shown him. Kingston Drive, Santa Cruz..."Why did you keep it?", he asked while he turned around the paper unconsciously. Probably he had been hoping to find something else there, but as the text which was not much longer than the one on the other site stroke his eyes, he pulled a face. 'Memo to myself...first think, then ask...'  
  
Jesse had hesitated for a second, he didn't know if he should prevent Steve from turning the paper around, but by the time he would maybe have come to a decision, it was already too late. But Steve once more proved to be the best and understanding friend you could have. He didn't lose a word about it. He only threw Jesse an apologizing look and the young doctor secretly sighed relievedly. He really had no intention to explain all that. Not right now. "I thought you would maybe find something there, find somene who knows something and who can be a bigger help than I am."  
  
"We will, Jess, I promise...", Steve answered and threw one last look at the adress to make sure he would be able to remember it later since he guessed that Jesse wanted to have the note back. However, his co-owner had jumped up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Gotta go, Steve, my..."  
  
"...your shift starts off in thirty minutes?"  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"It's thirty past eight. At fridays you always start working at nine...which you should change some time soon by the way if you don't wanna treat your beloved co-owner, who has also an under-paid, under-appreciated and demanding job, because of a spare-ribs-paranoia."  
  
Jesse smiled wryly. "You police guys really have great ideas when it comes to inventing new illnesses. Sure that you ain't wasting your qualities?"  
  
"Think scrubs wouldn't suit me!", Steve replied, giggling. He had missed that. For the first time in days Jesse seemed to be a bit relaxed. Maybe he simply enjoyed the distraction. The lieutenant couldn't blame him for that.  
  
"Scrubs suit everybody! Think about it...Bye!", Jesse waved a good-bye and turned around to face Mark and Amanda who had just entered the still almost empty restaurant. "Hi!"  
  
"Hi...", Mark greeted and winced already at the inevitable questions that was hidden in his best friend's eyes.  
  
"Is there..."  
  
But even before Mark could answer, Amanda cut in softly. "No, Jesse, I'm afraid. No change, yet!" Saying that, she stroke his arm slightly. Jesse sighed. "Okay then... see ya!"  
  
After the door had closed behind their friend, Mark and Amanda went over to Steve who quickly informed them about the news that they may had something. During that Steve realized that he had forgotten giving the paper back to Jesse. Now his dad and Amanda were scanning the adress and also Mark, same as his son, looked at the other site of the note. It had to be Susan's writing. Reading the last words of the message, Mark and Amanda both bit onto their lips. I'm also sorry...  
  
"Poor boy...", Mark mumbled sadly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Johnny, you're exactly the man I have been looking for!", Steve greeted his young protege happily the other morning, shortly after he had arrived at the departement.  
  
"Cool...", Johnny frowned. "Looking for as in looking for a guy who's done something you're not very happy about or as in looking for a man who seems to be in need of a really big challenge?"  
  
"We are going on a li'l vacation. Ever been to Santa Cruz?"  
  
"The one in Mexico?!"  
  
"Nope, you geographical genius, the one in California, but since you don't even seem to know where it is, I'll take it as a 'no'. It's some hours up the coast..."  
  
"And what are we gonna do there?", Johnny inquired. He actually hadn't had the intention to go on any vacation.  
  
"I'll explain that to you on the plane...which we won't get unless we ain't going now!"  
  
Steve gleefully watched Johnny looking at him like an old car. "What? Why? Now?"  
  
"Oh, you don't have to fly...", Steve informed him in mock amusement. "Highway No.1 is great for walks..."  
  
Johnny sighed. "Okay, let's go...but I get the window place!"  
  
"No problem, the I will have less trouble throwing you outta it when you get on my nerves all the time!", Steve replied sweetly.  
  
Johnny's eyes narrowed with a glim of enjoyment in them. "You don't like bullying people of your age, do you?"  
  
"You got me!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve sighed in despair, wheeping the sweat off his forehead. Flying was, for some reasons he didn't know, exhausting and now that he was running around in Kingston Drive trying to find someone who had known Susan Hilliard he was slowly running out of committment for this tiring challenge. Johnny, however, became more and more excited with every door that wasn't opened because no one was at home, with every granny that thought they would sell newspapers and every dog that tried to bite his shoes.  
  
Police work had got its original meaning back for him. The investigating, the questioning, without computer, without pushing files or reading lab reports.  
  
The door they finally knocked on belonged to a rather run-down place, that secretly remembered Steve of the houses you find in those old ghost towns where there are bodies burried under the building and rats in the yard. The door first only opened a crack and two brown small eyes peered through it and the way they looked, distrustingly, cool, even made Johnnie's bright, charming smile fade within seconds.  
  
"What do you want?", a female voice asked harshly.  
  
'Hansel and Gretel back!', thought Steve and felt a shudder down his spine. "Urm...LAPD, Ma'am we would like to ask you a few..."  
  
"Go away!", then the door was smashed in front of them.  
  
Johnny raised his eyebrow. "And what are we gonna do now? Pull one of those good cop/bad cop - things?"  
  
"You ain't talking seriously, are ya?"  
  
"Uuuhh..nope..."  
  
Steve knocked again. "Please open up! You might hold information which is of high importance in a running murder case. And unless you don't wanna join me on the next flight to LA, you'd better open your door!"  
  
Indeed the door was now opened again and revealed the full appeareance of a woman in the late fifties who wasn't what you'd call slim, neither what you would call friendly-looking. "Come on in...", she murmured with a less inviting gesture.  
  
"You know, maybe we can sort this out right here...", Steve offered. "Actually we're looking for someone who knows Susan Hilliard...do you happen to know her?"  
  
To the lieutenant's sincere surprise the woman's eyes widened in pure emotional bewilderedness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was not much later that Steve and Johnny were seated in the living room which didn't look much nicer than the remaining part of the building. Screwed down chairs, an old sticky carpet, a table with deep cracks in the plate. The slight uncomfortability that both of the police men felt instantly grew with every minute that they sat on their chairs, waiting for a story that would, indeed, hold pretty much of information for them. "My son, Danny, used to go to UC Santa Cruz. He was good student...until he met this girl. Susan, you know...he had a huge crush on her, they went out a few times and then she suddenly dumped him...", she hesitated for a moment. "I can remember it as though it was yesterday. He just...wasn't the same anymore. He was destroyed, the poor boy and then..." By now tears were covering Mrs. Corrings cheeks, "then she started to blame him..."  
  
From that second Steve and Johnny could only listen to something they didn't know if they should believe it or not. Susan had blamed Danny to be stalking her, to harass her, to frighten her. And Susan hadn't been the only one. Other girls shown up, given the same evidence, also in the trail... Danny had gone to prison.  
  
"He was just a boy in love...", ended Danny's mother her report with tears in her eyes. "You know, he truly loved that girl. And she...she destroyed him!", she hissed a last, before she was interrupted by a sharp laughter from the entrance.  
  
"Oh please, Marge, stop that! You that isn't true!" A middle aged man was blocking the exit, glaring down on the people that were sitting in his -and his body language left no doubt that it was his- living room. "Might I ask who you are that you're listining to my wife's lies?"  
  
"Steve Sloan and Johnny Danfield, LAPD. We're investigating in the attempted murder case on Susan Hilliard."  
  
The man again smiled cynically. "Oh, that explains about everything...including my wife's li'l stories which ain't the truth, I'm afraid!"  
  
Marge all of sudden whirled around. "Stop that, Bobby!", she yelled at him, but was almost begging.  
  
"No, I won't Marge!", he replied calmly at her break-out. "It's bad enough that you are still trying to convince yourself of Danny being a perfectly normal boy after all those years, but those people need to know the truth!"  
  
Marge simply stared at him in shock. Then she jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving two policemen feeling kinda awkward about the scene they had just witnessed. "So Mr...Corrings, I suppose...you mind telling us the truth?"  
  
The elderly man sighed and came closer. "The truth is that...Danny did all this! Marge doesn't wanna see that, but in fact Danny spent his time in prison more than deservedly. Yeah, he was destroyed after Susan had left him...and so he was after Mary and Jen and Lana. You can believe me, I don't like saying that...but sometimes I really thought he is a psycho. Guess Susan was the first one who realized that, too..."  
  
"When did he get outta prison?", Johnny asked, quickly casting Steve a guilty glance, only to find that he supervisor seemed to be pleased with him this time.  
  
Mr. Corrings shrugged unattentively. "'bout one year ago..maybe...he was only here for a few days, then left again...dunno, I never got along with him very well..." He stopped as Steve and Johnny frowned. "You see, I'm not his real dad...Danny's father left the family very soon after his son was born. Ever since I was here I truly tried my best on Danny. But I haven't succeeded, I suppose..." He lowered his head.  
  
"Might I ask you one last question?", Steve inquired.  
  
"Yeah, of course..."  
  
"Do you...can you imagine that Danny is capable to committ a murder?"  
  
Color drained from Mr Corrings' face as he heard the last words. Interestingly, he didn't even make an attempt to open his mouth. He simply continued staring into the reluctant ugliness of his living room.  
  
After a few second of gloomy silence, Steve cleared his throat. "I see...", he mumbled, sensing the answer that Danny's step-father didn't dare to speak out.  
  
"Take the silence as what it is, Lieutenant..please...", Corrings said quietly as Johnny and Steve got up.  
  
Steve only nodded. "Thanks for your help!" Then he opened the door and sighed relievedly when he was finally back on the street, off the property.  
  
  
  
  
  
Back in the rent car, Johnny slumped into his seat and fastened the seat- belt quickly, though the the tires of the vehicle weren't even moving yet. "Okay, did this...you know like...help us in any way?"  
  
Steve still felt bewildered. "I dunno...we'll have to find out. I suggest that we drive to the court and have some files handed over. Maybe the protocoll of the trial will help us find out what exactly is helpful here and what not..."  
  
"There are so many unanswered questions...all this seems to be too much of a coincidence. The adress....Danny...that trial...isn't that a bit...constructed?"  
  
Steve fastened his seat-belt, turned the engine on and the wheel to bring the car back onto the street. "I believe neither in coincidences nor in constructions. I fact the syllables co(n) is an enemy of mine!"  
  
"Uhu", Johnny smiled. "Like conclusion? Concept? Concisness?"  
  
"That's enough, Danfield!"  
  
"Concilation? Concentration?"  
  
"Jeeeeez..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile at Community General Hospital Dr Mark Sloan concernedly looked through the windows of the ICU at the scene, which he found was cute, but more than that horrible at the same time.  
  
Susan lay in bed, connected to a whole lot of tubes and wires, her skin pale and dry, he eyes closed. Matching quite the color of the sheets, she almost seemed to be transparent, almost like a lifeless doll put into a mammoth bed.  
  
Jesse sat on a chair, well, just about, his upper body rested on the matress at the bottom of the bed. After hours of waiting he hadn't managed to keep his eyes open any longer and now Mark didn't have the heart to wake him up. He'd rather have left his young friend there, in his dreams than ruttle him back into the reality which was right now so devasting that even the ususally so optmistic Mark Sloan couldn't help but feeling the despair crawling through his mind.  
  
Neither Mark nor Jesse noticed the small movements at first and when they finally did, they weren't sure if it was real or still a dream...  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC... 


	12. Explain It To My Heart

Hey ya, thanks für your reviews and that your still sticking to the story! We're not far from the end now!  
  
Thanks to Wuemsel for a couch, a li'l TV education, Kuuuuuliiiiiiiis, the one and only Warlock and loadsa patience!! Thanks to Anna for being the greatest, even though momentary slightly disabled friend and to Reggie for non-stop support!  
  
All disclaimers apply.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I understand there's no future for us here  
  
Guess I fooled myself into thinking there was  
  
Now you've make it clear  
  
I'll never be right  
  
Now we've got to say good-bye and I've got to be strong  
  
So tell me one more time how it's better for the both of us  
  
Tell me one more time how we'll hurt each other if we stay  
  
Tell me one more time the darling there's just one more thing  
  
Before you walk away  
  
Explain it to my heart  
  
It's better that we're over now  
  
Tell me one more time that this it's suppose to be  
  
Tell me that I'm better off without you  
  
How it's better to forget about you  
  
Darling I understand  
  
Now won't you please explain it to my heart  
  
Now if I try I can see the reasons why  
  
Why we can't stay together I might convince my mind  
  
But it's breaking my heart to know I've got to let you go  
  
To find that I must leave behind the only love I've known  
  
Well I can tell myself that I never really needed you  
  
I can tell myself that it's better just to say good-bye  
  
I can tell myself a thousand lies  
  
But tell me now  
  
Tell me how I do  
  
Say that I'll be better  
  
If we don't stay together  
  
Say that I'll be better off free  
  
But don't say it to me  
  
Explain it to my heart  
  
The song "Explain It To My Heart" by Chicago was originally published on the album Chicago 21.  
  
  
  
  
  
There was a noise. The first one she heard. There was light flooting through her eyelids, bright and ugly light, horribly bright at first. There was something soft next to her left leg, something that felt natural and human. Susan only slowly got aware of her own thoughts. It was like waking up from a deep sleep, yet it seemed to be harder as thought that nap had taken centuries. Her back hurt, her head a little, too. She wasn't lying on an uncomfortable couch, that was for sure. The regular beeps next to her sounded so damn used that Susan, being a nurse, had no problem making out where they came from. She also felt the tube in her nose and the wires being connected to her limp body.  
  
What had happened to her?  
  
All of sudden the image of a car shot towards her, faster than it had done in reality, she could feel the pain again, however, not physically. Simply the fear, the feeling of...dying. Yeah, she could remember. Rob, the coach, LA and...the car. In the middle of all those memories Susan didn't even quite realize that her eyes had cracked open. She didn't recognize the place at first, still she didn't feel lost. Somehow she had the the feeling that she was at the right place. That she was where she was supposed to be.  
  
Her gaze wandered through the room and remained in a single person that stood next to her bed. She recognized the friendly smile, the mischievous eyes, his warm and encouraging impression had lost nothing of its loveliness. And even in despite of the fact that she was too weak to give any expression to her happiness he seemed to return her inner smile.  
  
Mark had hardly ever felt so relieved in his life. When he had meant to watch some small movements, he had come closer to the bed just to check if his tired eyes were already fooling him. But he didn't seem to have erred. Two pretty blue eyes now through him a long weak, yet grateful look of recognisition.  
  
Susan's glance now drifted and she noticed something -or someone- else. An exhausted, yet youthful face which was covered by some strands that belonged to dishevelled blonde hair. Jesse's head rested on his arms at the edge of the bed. His shoulders rose and fell staidily with every breath, you could tell from one quick glance that he was fast asleep.  
  
Mark bent down next to him and gently ruttled his young friend. Jesse groaned heavily a few times, giving his reluctance of waking up the necessary expression, however, he finally opened his eyes, sat up with a moan when a nasty pain shot through his lower back and rubbed his fingers over his temples and eyes. "Sorry, Mark, I must have fallen asleep whe..." By that time Jesse's heart had missed a beat.  
  
Susan had managed to catch his eyes with her own ones, simply looked at him and wanted nothing more but to smile brightly when she found that his look hadn't changed at all. There was the smae twinkle in those eyes, still the same shine, right now covered by confusion and a kind of disbelief.  
  
Jesse indeed didn't dare to trust his senses. What if he had gone nuts? Or was he just dreaming? Aware of another presence in the room, he finally turned around to the man who'd woken him up. If Mark was seeing the same like him...  
  
Mark could guess Jesse's thoughts. So when the young man turned around to face him and his questioning, hoping looks told volumes, Mark only smiled and nodded.  
  
The stone that dropped from Jesse's heart was heavy enough to cause an earthquake. "I don't belief this!", he mumbled, realizing to late that he had said that aloud. Slowly, very slowly, since he still sorted his mind, he got up and settled at the edge of the bed. Carefully he grabbed both of hands and never took his gaze off of Susan as though he was scared of losing her as soon as he looked away. "Susan?", he asked, so insecurly as if he still didn't really expect anything to happen.  
  
She blinked and moved her fingers. Hers were cold and clumsy, yet firmly held by his, nevertheless she could press her hands against his that he would realize that she was there, as present, just as alive as him  
  
The effect of those little movements was amazing, she found. A second of what she interpreted as silent amazement was followed by a huge grin that spread on his lips revealing all the relief and all the happiness as though lots and lots of it had been saved over years for this one brief moment. And then there it was: a single tear on his cheek, another one.  
  
For the first time in days Jesse had no intention to stop the tears from whelming up in him. Right now they were the last thing he cared about.  
  
  
  
  
  
About one week later  
  
Grabbing a mug and the coffee can, Steve Sloan was happy to finally come to a seat in the lounge. Settling down and taking a sip from his coffee, he glanced over to Amanda and his father who both wore a relaxed smile on their faces.  
  
"Hey!", he greeted. "How is Susan?"  
  
"A lot better. If the recovery goes on like this, we should be able to release her in a few days!", Mark informed him. Now that the medical part was done, he had question referring to the criminalistic section. "Anything new about Danny?"  
  
Steve shook his head. He only wished that he would be having news that were about as satisfying as his father's. "Nope, nothing. It's as though he never existed...probably he's already left the country. He won't turn up here again, I suppose...the investigations are still running, but I don't really think we'll work out anything..."  
  
"So there is no doubt that is was him?", Amanda inquired.  
  
"Very li'l one", Steve replied. "Susan told me that he had been stalking her already before she left LA. At first letters in which he told her that he was out of prison and wanted her back...the adress we found on the note she wrote for Jess was the envelopement of one of his letters. But he also chased her, even threatened her before she left for New York. He seemed to be obsessed, but maybe he's still left so much of a sane mind that he was clever enough to figure out that it is to risky for him here. The NYPD is positive that danny also murdered Bakins. There looking for him everywhere and so is the police here. That man can't lead a nicelife here anymore..."  
  
"We don't have anything to worry about?", Mark asked, suspicously.  
  
Steve shook his head, but couldn't help throwing his dad a knowing glance. "Admit it, dad, something is worrying you!"  
  
Mark lowered his head. He had been caught. "You know, it's just weird. I mean that guy is a psycho, and psychos usually don't stop just like this..."  
  
"You wanna scare us?", Amanda asked in yet mock amusement, however, she felt a strange feeling crawling through her stomach.  
  
Mark laughed self-consciously. "Probably you're right. I'm just thinking too much..."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
About one week later  
  
Opening the door of his refrigator, Jesse dropped his gaze disappointedly as he stared into the emptiness. Blushing slightly, he turned around to his guest who leaned at the kitchen counter.  
  
"You know...uh...how about we just order a pizza!", he suggested, smiling wryly at the emberassing state of his food depot.  
  
Susan couldn't help but grinning, though deep inside she knew that this was definitly not the right time for it. She only thought it was funny that all the things that were regarded as life maintaining -like sleep, food, relaxing- still didn't seem to count for Jesse Travis. However, her smile faded hastily by the thought of what she was about to tell him. "You don't need to order one for me...I'm flying back to New York tonight..." She just couldn't speak on as she looked into his eyes.  
  
Jesse simply stared at her in pure disbelief. "What?!", it slipped out of his mouth faster than he could think. At the same time he felt like a fool. Not because he had asked, rather because of the way he had asked. Shockedly. And he, indeed, was shocked. Shocked to discover that he had still hoped for something. Now she knew what he was thinking, that was certain.  
  
Susan's gaze dropped. "Listen, I wanna go to Robert's funeral, I owe him that, after all all this is my fault..."  
  
He only nodded as his mind was too confused to produce a single proper sentence. He could even understand her, but...he didn't know it, maybe he was just tired of being in the middle of all this.  
  
As he didn't say anything, Susan continued talking. "Look, I understand if that doesn't sound fair to you. Neither it sounds to me. But, you know, I must have excused about a thousand times for what happened to you and I'm still sorry, but what about Robert? You understand me, do you?"  
  
He remained where he was, like frozen across her on his side of the counter and didn't say a word.  
  
"If all that is over, I'll come back and we can talk this through once and for all!" Susan had really meant it as an offer. Not an offence. An offer, but as she realized soon, it had sounded impatient and also somehow patronizing. She hated herself for doing this.  
  
A cool, sarcastic, yet sad smile, spread on Jesse's face as he looked at her with eyes that would have melted a stone. "No", he answered in a low voice, watching her wincing slightly. "I'm sorry, I can't. This has already costed me too much strength, I just...", he suddenly raised his voice a little. "What have you been thinking anyway, why did you come back?", this was the question he wanted to have answered more urgently than anything else, until now he simply hadn't had the heart to ask it. But right now, the question was rethorical. He rather wanted to go on yelling. "You know, it's...I would have loved to tell you this not here, not in this situation...I really loved you, Susan. And I realized that I still do, but, you know, we can't go on like this. I don't wanna go through all this again and I get the feeling that I'm already right in the middle if it..." By now he almost shouted at her and as he noticed that, he stopped one moment to take a deep breath. "You don't have to come back. It's over..."  
  
An uneasy silence filled the room, seemed to be louder than thousands of noises. Susan bit on her lip. There were so many things, she still wanted to explain to him, yeah, that was actually why she had come back. If she did tell him now, maybe he would understand. Maybe he would give it a chance. However, for some reasons she didn't feel like explaining anything to him. She simply nodded. "I'm gonna call myself a cab..."  
  
He threw a glance at his wrist watch and grabbed his jacket. As he was heading for the door, both of them suddenly froze. Jesse slowly turned around, coming to face her. "I'm sorry..." He smiled sadly and his gaze dropped. "Deja vu, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, pretty much..." She smiled back, feeling the same sorrow, the same pain, the same unanswered questions wandering through her mind she would never get an answer for. Neither he would.  
  
  
  
In his car Jesse didn't turn the engine on immediatly. He only sat there, drewing long deep breaths. There was nothing right about this. No fairness, no understanding, not even indifference that would have made it any easier. Only regrets. But he had said the truth. He didn't have the strength and he was starting to believe that he never had had it. Maybe relationships were a thing that was just beyond him.  
  
He sighed once again and started his car. The sun was already setting and in the closing time traffic he would probably never make it to the CGH in time anyway. So he didn't want to dawdle about any longer. Work was right now the only thing able to distract him.  
  
  
  
Susan just glanced out on the street, waiting for the cab she had called as soon as she had left and saw Jesse's car passing by. By the time it was a bit further down the road, a second car which had been parked at the site of the street in front of the apartment house was started. She frowned. The car had been there for hours, all the time she had looked out of the window it had been there. The strange thing was that she hadn't seen anyone getting into the car before it drove away. The driver obviously had been sitting in his dark car all the time.  
  
She couldn't help it, she had a strange feeling about this. She couldn't describe it, it was intuition, some kind of a sixth sense. Still holding the receiver of the phone, that she had used to call for a cab, in her hand, she dialled Jesse's number, only to find that in the sudden rush he had forgotton both his cellphone and his pager.  
  
Panic rose in her when a sudden idea came to her mind. Dialling another number quickly, she only hoped that she either suffered from a strong paranoia or, in case she didn't, wouldn't be too late.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Dad!", called Steve out of the kitchen, "where have you put the ketch-up?"  
  
"Unless you haven't bought some, we don't have any ketch-up!", Mark replied, grinning amusedly.  
  
"Hmpf, and what am I supposed to eat my Hamburgers with?"  
  
"How about curry?", Mark suggested.  
  
At that answer Steve's mockily shock-widened eyes pierced him from the kitchen entrance. "That's disgusting, dad!"  
  
Their friendly argument was interrupted by the ringing phone. "I'm going...wasn't looking forward to dinner anyway!", Steve murmured, wearing a wryly sulking smile. "Sloan?"  
  
"Steve?", Susan swallowed.  
  
Steve frowned as he heard her quivering voice. "Susan?", he asked, fully earnest by now. The sudden change of his tone also caught Mark's attention.  
  
"Listen, I think that Jesse might be in trouble.."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I can't explain it to you right now, please drive to Community General, I have the feeling that something's going on..."  
  
Steve only remained silent to sort his mind when he heard Susan's eager voice. "Please trust me, Steve!"  
  
"Okay!", by that Steve had already hung up the phone and turned to his father. "Forget about the curry, dad, we've gotta go!"  
  
  
  
Jesse pulled into the parking space in the underground garage of the CGH. He was late, but right now only a few minutes. Not unusual at this time of the day. He had arrived when it was dark outside, the night of LA had officially gone into the next round. Another night of work. Usual. And yet, it was different for him.  
  
He got out of his car, locked it and made his way towards the stairway when suddenly the lights went off and Jesse stood in the complete darkness between the cars. He sighed. Obviously there had been a short circuit or something like that. Nothing to worry about, in a few seconds the emergency electricity generator would start to work. Until then he had no choice but to remain where he was since he couldn't see anything at all and would never find the exit that way.  
  
Some footsteps sounded near him. It seemed as though there was another person caught in the darkness, but that person somehow set his steps more determinedly than Jesse did, the noises of his shoes hitting the asphalt echoed from all sides of the the garage. The young doctor had the feeling that that person wasn't walking away from him, but seemed to approach him. The echoes of the shoes came closer and Jesse could sense the presence of another man almost right in front of him, though he couldn't see a thing. He frowned and his eyes narrowed as he tried to make out contures or a face in the endless dark, nevertheless nothing was visible. Finally he asked, by now already feeling slightly uncomfortable:"Anybody here?"  
  
Instead of an answer, Jesse all of sudden felt sharp pain piercing his left shoulder, a pain that almost took him the air to breath. Cold, sharp metall bored into his flesh, causing him to gasp before he groaningly sank onto the ground, the knife or whatever it was still evident in his shoulder. Not for long though. With a rough and nasty movement it was removed when Jesse was halfway down, already on his knees. The young doctor cried out in pain, feeling blood escaping from the deep and aching wound in his shoulder, not far away from his heart. His mind was racing, he was scared beyond believe and didn't even have the strength to scream.  
  
Now there was a flickering around him and the emergency lights went on. Between the stars he saw and the unbelievable pain, Jesse, who was still on his knees, desperatly pressing his right hand onto his shoulder, the doctor could make out a pair of blue Jeans in front of him.  
  
Danny laughed out evily. "Well, nice to meet you again, Dr Travis!", he said, bending over that he was face to face, eye to eye with his gasping victim. "You probably don't remember me, though! I'm Danny!"  
  
At the mention of the name, Jesse head jerked up, slowlier than it would have normally done but still there was enough of fearful recognition in that gesture.  
  
Danny smirked. "Yeah, me, exactly. The guy you have all been looking for! And very soon I'll be away for good. But still had some buisness here...like, you know...", his eyes sparkled threateningly, "killing you..."  
  
Saying that, Danny aimed and kicked against Jesse's right hand, the one he had pressed onto the wound. Jesse once more whined, but more surpressedly, it was only a small noise compared to how much his whole body hurt. Having been worked over by Danny's feet, Jesse's couldn't hold himself upright anymore and also his upper body sank onto the floor that was already covered with his blood.  
  
Danny shook his head, almost pitifully and knelt down next to his victim, rolled him onto the site and scrutinisized him calmly. Jesse fought against the unconcussionness and his whole body seemed to be wrapped into a blankett of pain, but he still was able to understand that words that Danny hissed at him now in unmoved heartlessness. "It'll be over soon, Travis. I gotta admitt that Bakins suffered less than you, but I thought you need a little special treatment..."  
  
Absent-mindedly he played with the bloody knife in his hands and Jesse, though his view was already blurred, was able to see that and once more tried to flinch away scaredly, but that only sent another wave of crushing hurt through his weak body. He moaned quietly.  
  
Danny meanwhile continued speaking:"Bakins was less fun than you, too. You know, Susan never really loved him, she just needed him to get a bit...let me say, alternation. But you...that was different. She truly loved you and I wouldn't be too surprised if she still does...and you're surely wondering how I know all this. Well, see...I love Susan and I know everything about her. And, you know something else, Travis?", he paused and looked at the pale and barely breathing figure in front of him. "I won't share her! Never..."  
  
Suddenly the approaching sound of police sirens sounded from the walls and the ceiling and caused both Danny and Jesse to wince, even though Jesse at that time was already more or less unconscious.  
  
Within seconds the dim light of the emergency lamps was supported by the red and blue lights of two police cars and one pair of headlights, belonging to a civil Ford, whose doors flew open and Steve, holding his gun pointed at Danny who sat on the floor coweredly, the knife still in his hands.  
  
"Freeze!", shouted Steve.  
  
Danny laughed and dropped the knife. "It's over, Sloan, you won't be able to..." he couldn't speak furtherly as one hit of Steve's left fist sent him flying over the next car before he landed on the hard asphalt and was dragged to his feet by two police officers, not only because those wanted to rescue his victim from him, rather because they wanted to rescue Danny from Steve whose looks seemed to to be enough right now to kill Danny immediatly.  
  
The detective, however, had already turned his attention to his father who knelt next to his best friend. "Steve, I'm barely getting an heart beat, we need to bring him upstairs, fast!", Mark said seriously, pressing one hand on the deep wound in his friend's shoulder while the other hand rested calmingly, as he hoped, on Jesse's head.  
  
"Alright...", Steve nodded and bent over to put his strong and firm arms cautiously under Jesse's knees and shoulders to lift him up like a grown-up carrying a small, sleeping child. Jesse groaned as Steve touched him, but didn't fight against it.  
  
"It's okay, Jess, you're gonna be fine!", Steve stated quietly and didn't know if Jesse could hear him.  
  
  
  
All his way upstairs to the ER Steve repeated the sentence over and over again, not only to make Jesse feel save and alright, but also to to convince himself. Jesse's pale skin didn't match the red color of his once white shirt very well. Neither did the red match his own blue shirt found Steve and a shudder ran down his spine as he saw his friend's blood seep in his clothes.  
  
When he finally came to lay his friend onto a stretcher in the ER, Steve heart and mind were racing. He simply watched his father and the other nurses rushing to the sites of their patient, each of them worried about a man they had known for years. But they had to be objective and handle the situation professionally.  
  
The detective got aware of Alex who seemed to have been standing next to him for quite a while, while he had been watching the bustle in the trauma room. Knowing Mark Sloan's son rather well, Alex knew that he should just keep quiet and wait.  
  
  
  
Amanda had just started her shift and more or less coincidently met Susan in front of the CGH. Susan had jumped out of a cab and practically run into the pathologist who had inquired what happened. Susan had quickly informed her about her horrible suspicion and both woman had headed to the ER as quickly as possible.  
  
Entering the emergency room of the Community General Hospital, Amanda and Susan both stopped dead immediatly when they saw a blood soaked Steve standing lost and completely helpless next to Alex in the middle of the entrance area.  
  
"Oh God, Steve, what happened to you?!", Amanda cried out. He lifted his gaze slowly and first looked at her though she was the first human being he saw in his whole life.  
  
"To me?", he repeated dumb-foundedly and then slowly seemd to understand. "Oh, that's not my blood. It's..."  
  
He didn't need to speak on since now the door of the trauma room flung open as a nurse quickly left it. A few seconds Amanda's and Susan's eyes were focussed on Jesse who lay on the stretcher, with bare, blood covered chest, and Mark who was working concentratedly and hoped that no one would notice how much he shivered. Jesse had already lost so much blood and his heart was about to stop again.  
  
"Jesse Travis!", Mark mumbled eagerly. "You won't die now! Are you hearing me? You are not going to die now!"  
  
  
  
Outside Susan and Amanda simply stared at the by now closed door of the trauma room in pure shock.  
  
"What happened?", Amanda demanded to know and turned to Steve while she already sobbed.  
  
"I knew it, that's all my fault!", whined Susan and Alex could see that she was close to break-down.  
  
"How about we go to lounge and sit down for a while?", he suggested calmingly and the two woman nodded. Alex grabbed Susan and gently guarded her while Amanda followed them, pretty shaken and confused, too, but still in a much better condition than the younger nurse.  
  
Turning on his heel, Alex pointed at Steve's shirt. "In the changing room down the hall is a locker with scrubs. Take what you need."  
  
Steve understood the hoodwink and smiled thankfully. He really could need some fresh clothes.  
  
  
  
When he walked into the doctors lounge about ten minutes later, he found Alex on the couch, holding a very calm Susan in his arms, and Amanda at the table, her face burried in her hands and she didn't seem to notice anything.  
  
Steve approached her, settled down on the chair next to her and gently stroked her back while he threw Alex a look. "What about Susan?", he whispered.  
  
"Gave her something...", Alex replied, smiling weakly. Then he raised one eyebrow. "The scrubs suit you!", he said quietly, only to say something and he knew that Steve would get the meaning of this.  
  
What he didn't know was what kind of memory now wandered through Steve's mind. "Yeah", the detective smiled forcedly and looked down on himself, the blue shirt and blue trousers in standard size. "Scrubs suit everybody...", he mumbled and suddenly winced.  
  
Now he really was about to cry. 


	13. When You Say Nothing At All

Done, done, done!! Hooooooray! Well, a very very last thanks to everyone who read this story, reviewed and maybe even enjoyed it! Your comments really made me proud and maybe there'll come a day when my stories are really able to match those great I reviews you write!! Again it's been a pleasure to post this!  
  
Great thanks to Wuemsel for a loads of bottles, for pizza-pics, for sharing some TV-sorrow (Caaaaaaarter, Kleeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiner, kommt zurück!! *heul*), for What are they DOING there?!, for making them hug each other and for my special edition of "Don't go to Warlock!" (weil bei mir is ja eh Hopfen und Malz verloren). Remember the Pacey-quote in these days! Wnuddel! Thanks to Anna for interesting conversations during the English lesson (hell, it's a moth!!) and for a cute Valentines card. Thanks to Reggie for great stories!!  
  
All disclaimers apply. The song "When You Say Nothing At All" belongs to Ronan Keating and the song "I Guess That's Why The Call It The Blues" belongs to Elton John. (Brit-Pop-Hooray!) References made to the DM-eppi Blood Will Out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It's amazing  
  
How you can speak  
  
Right to my heart  
  
Without saying a word,  
  
You can light up the dark  
  
Try as I may  
  
I could never explain  
  
What I hear when  
  
You don't say a thing  
  
The smile on your face  
  
Lets me know  
  
That you need me  
  
There's a truth  
  
In your eyes  
  
Saying you'll never leave me  
  
The touch of your hand says  
  
You'll catch me  
  
Whenever I fall  
  
You say it best  
  
When you say  
  
Nothing at all  
  
All day long  
  
I can hear people  
  
Talking out loud  
  
But when you hold me near  
  
You drown out the crowd  
  
Try as they may  
  
They can never define  
  
What's been said  
  
Between your  
  
Heart and mine  
  
You say it best when you say nothing at all  
  
You say it best when you say nothing at all  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"What's with you, Jess?"  
  
"I'm fine!"  
  
"Jesse, your girlfriend was kidnapped by a killer!"  
  
"Hell, what do you want me to say? That I'm terrified? That I never thought someone could matter to me as much as Susan does? That if something bad happens to her my live would be over?!"  
  
"Something like that...we're friends, we can help ya.."  
  
"How? Exactly!"  
  
"Oh dunno...being there, listen, patch on your back..."  
  
"Do you feel better now?"  
  
"Yeah, much, thanks!"   
  
A small sad smile flitted over Steve's face as the scene was replayed in his mind over and over again as though it was a movie that always stopped at the same place, was rewinded and shown again. It was now almost three hours that he had been staring at the huddled person on the couch, wearing an apathetic gaze in his eyes that also Amanda had noticed.  
  
The pathologist herself had gone through different states from the moment she had witnessed in the ER earlier. At first she had been shocked, then only despaired, then still scared beyond believe, but slowly and finally a calm hope had settled in her again, the vague feeling of reliabilty of firstly the good hands Jesse was in and secondly the knowledge that Jesse was strong enough to make it through.  
  
Placing a new mug of steaming coffee next to the absent-minded lieutenant, she ruttled him softly. "What are you thinking about?"  
  
Ages seemed to pass until Steve reacted. He had been to busy with the replaying image in his brain. "Uh"..", he winced slightly before he realized where he was, "no...nothing. Just something that Jesse told me once...not that important..." He had lied lamely. It was important. It had been important to Jesse when he had yelled those things into Steve's face years ago, even it had been cynically, looking back at it almost of a certain sarcastic comic, but yet it had been a confession. Steve had never thought of it again until today.  
  
Susan lay huddled on the sofa, sleeping a softly drugged sleep. Alex had slipped away as soon as she had drifted away to see how Mark was doing in the emergency operation on Jesse. He had thrown a last worried glance at Steve and Amanda, who at that time looked as broken as Alex couldn't recall having seen them like this before. But then, he quickly had decided that the two of them still had each other right now, while Mark was left to himself, having the responsibility for a patient who was his friend as almost his son at the same time. So the intern had finally headed off.  
  
Amanda had patiently waited for a further explaination, but she soon realized that she seemed to have waited in vain. Steve didn't say a word.  
  
"Steve, talk to me!", she demanded calmly.  
  
He turned to look at her. "It's unfair!", he stated. Simply. Only. She lost tongue for a moment. She had never heard him saying something like that. Normally Steve Sloan would have sounded enragedly, furiously. Now he sounded like a little boy, seeming unable to to put complicated thoughts into more than one simple sentence.  
  
She only slowly found her speech again and the noticed surprisedly that she could do nothing more but to agree with him. "Yeah, you're right...", she mumbled. She had experienced herself how much Susan meant to Jesse. And the other way around. Why did things like those always have to be so complicated?  
  
A slight sarcastic laugh escaped from her lips. "We're are truly great at stating the obvious, ain't we? I mean, god, listen to us! We're talking about him as though is...as though he is already..." He didn't dare to speak out the word, fearing that it would become reality by the time she gave it an expression.  
  
Steve secretly had to admitt that the thought had crossed his mind, even more than once in the past hours. He just couldn't fight the picture of his shirt being soaked with blood, he still saw his friend's pale face as Steve had practically screamed at him to hold on while carrying him up the stairs.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark Sloan's face had ashened so extremely that Alex was about to reach out his hand as support a few times to make sure that the older doctor wouldn't stumble on his way through the corridors, but everytime he intended to do so, he had gotten his senses back just in time. Mark surely wouldn't allow Alex to lean him a hand as much as he maybe needed it.  
  
Mark knew that he had to pretend strength at least long enough to tell Steve, Amanda and Susan about Jesse's state and until that wasn't done, he would keep his posture. The role of the doctor. The objective doctor who presented a whole lot of medical facts, explaining the truth to the worried relatives. Then he would take care of himself. At the same time, Mark was still in shock. The sound of the never ending beep when Jesse had suddenly had a flat line remained still in his ears. In the seconds between the flat line and the moment they had had a weak heart rythm back on the monitor Mark hadn't been sure if it wasn't also his heart that had stopped beating for a moment.  
  
Entering the lounge, he found his son and Amanda staring into their mugs as though it was the Superbowl finale, even with far less excitement though, and Susan still asleep on the sofa. Two pairs of eyes looked up at Alex, who was only a few steps behind him, and him and scrutinized them intensely as though they hoped to read an answer for all their questions written somewhere on their shirts or so. Mark could remember seeing the same look in Jesse's eyes weeks ago and realizing that hit him like a flash. Hadn't he sensed at that time that it was only the beginning of something?  
  
Steve cleared his throat which suddenly seemed to be very dry. "Dad?"  
  
Mark's look wandered to each of them and remained on an invisible object far away. "He's alright for the moment. Lost a lot of blood, though. The coming hours will be absolutely critical...", he informed them.  
  
Steve was shocked by the trance his father seemed to be in. The fact he had given them had sounded like a chain of necessary informations you would find in any chart. They hadn't sounded like his father at all. Steve slowly got up from his chair and came closer to his father. Building up in front of Mark, he gently grabbed him by the shoulders. "Dad, are you okay?"  
  
It was only now that Mark really appeared to notice him and his eyes focussed on Steve. "Son...", he mumbled and out of a sudden impulse he didn't speak on, but did something he had rarely ever done for ages. In fatherly intuition he pulled his son into a hug and Steve was too astonished to even fight against it. And somehow he felt that he had also needed that. There were times when even the Sloan's hated their responsibilities.  
  
After an eternity that neither Amanda nor Alex had dared to interrupt, the two let go off each other and Mark went over to the couch, knowing that there was still another task waiting for him. He sat down next to Susan and touched her shoulder softly. She woke up after a while and took in her surroundings, slightly disorientated at first. But when she saw the tired face of the older man in front of her the memory returned faster than she sort her mind. The sat up immediatly and saw stars for moment. "Mark? How is he?", she asked, pleadingly.  
  
Aware of the fact that he wasn't to make the same mistake again, Mark took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. "Susan...to be honest, it's too early to tell. He is a critcal state...", he trailed off.  
  
Susan bit on her lip. Her thoughts were out of order, everything was messed up in her head. Pictures of Jesse flickered through her mind within seconds, a never ending line of images. She didn't even realize how the first tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. Follow by a second one. Slowly she turned around to face Steve who stood across the room. "You've got Danny?", she asked with tear-stiffled voice.  
  
Steve nodded calmingly. "Yeah! Yeah, don't worry, we've got him!", saying those words, he was a little relieved himself. Yeah, they had him! But if they had got him in time was still about to show...  
  
Susan drew a deep breath. Now she had to be strong. For once in her life she couldn't just run away. She had done that so often and only hurt people with that. Now she had to stay. Jesse had been there for her, after all she had done to him, he had still been there for her, and now it was her turn. Now she had to there for him. "C...can I see Jesse?", she stammered.  
  
Mark nodded reassuringly. "Of course...come with me!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was not much later that Susan had settled next to Jesse's bed. The young man looked horribly pale and breathing seemed to hurt him as there were small tremor send through his body with every rising of his chest. Mark had left after he had made sure that she was okay. Now she was alone with her thoughts and her ex-boyfriend who as she suddenly realized hadn't changed in one year.  
  
He still looked younger than he was, still a blonde touseled mob of hair, the same figure. It was just his lifelessness right now that scared the hell out of her. She rather wanted to have him back, lifely, a bit over- enthusiastic, boyish and yeah, simply lovely.  
  
Rob had been totally different, it shot through her mind and at the same she hated herself for thinking of him now. Yet she couldn't help it. Rob had been grown-up, earnest, a man you admired for what he did, but not loved for what he was. Rob, as she suddenly realized, had been a mistake. A play, a game she admitted to...to run away. Again.  
  
Susan remembered the last question Jesse had asked her:"Why the hell did you come back?"  
  
He was right. He deserved to know. He needed to know. She owed him that. "You know...", she started, looking at the fragile figure in the bed, "...you wanna know why I came back?"  
  
She waited for a reply and sighed inwardly when there was nothing but silence. Somehow she had hoped he would open his eyes and look at her and say yes. Or at least nod. "I came back because I realized that Rob had been a mistake. Leaving you had been a mistake. And only came back to apologize to you..for what I did to you. I certainly didn't want to bother you again. And now looked at this...it seems as though everything I start sooner or later turns out to be mess. I'm sorry, Jess, that's all my fault. It always seems to be my fault...", she added remorsefully.  
  
She looked at him and sighed deeply. She had surpress the sobs again and swallowed hard. "Please, you've gotta wake up, this can't be your way to say good-bye!", she insisted and then something slipped out of her mouth father than she could even think. "I need you!"  
  
There was still no movement.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was early in the morning when Steve carefully peeked into the room to find Susan still awake. Mark had been there every hour, checked on Jesse, talked to him. Now, after his last visit, the older doctor had slumped into the couch in the lounge exhaustedly and fallen asleep there next to Amanda. Steve didn't have the heart to wake him up and taken his turn.  
  
"Hey!", he said softly while entering the room.  
  
Susan looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Still no change?", he inquired, however, already sensing the frustrating answer.  
  
She shook her head. She had been sitting here for hours, unable to sleep, only following the jumping line of Jesse's heart monitor with her gaze. She had been biting on her nails once again, a thing she always did and that had used to drive Jesse mad about as much as he had driven her crazy with cracking knuckles.  
  
"You want me to stay here so that you can go and eat something? Or shall I bring you some rice cakes..", the half-hearted joke had escaped him before he could prevent it. She whirled around and he grimaced apologetically, but was relieved to find that she only smiled.  
  
"You still remember that?", she asked, unbelieving.  
  
"Sure I do!", he replied. "I mean, that was realy that first time that I chased living deads with my main evidence being a suitcase of rice cakes...", he winked friendly.  
  
"That was the last diet I ever made...", Susan grinned slightly.  
  
"And bet I was really happy about that!", suddenly croaked someone. The third voice that had cut in their friendly teasing startled Steve and Susan that both of them forgot to close their mouths.  
  
Steve was the first to find his speech. "Jess?...", he asked, still not believing really it.  
  
"No, Balu the bear!", came the dry reply from Jesse, whose eyes were opened, still narrowed because the light blinded him, but you could already recognise a small sparkle in them again. His chest hurt and the breathing mask didn't make talking much easier for him, nevertheless he smiled weakly.  
  
He now felt a squeeze on his hand and turned his head to the side. "Hey there", whispered Susan, holding his hand tightly.  
  
"Hey...you're here?" It seemed to be more a question than a statement.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, I am here!" For now that seemed to be enough. For now it was as easy as that.  
  
Mark woken up soon after he had fallen asleep on the couch in the lounge and realized for the first time how exhausting the past hours had been for him and also his friends. Amanda had slept next to him, but opened her eyes when he got up to go and see his friend again. This time she wanted to join him, no matter how scared she was of what she would witness there. Opening the door and sneaking in while trying not to make too much noise, both frozw in the middle of a movement as their hearts seemed to miss a beat. Mark stared in confusion at Jesse, before his frown settled into a warm and relieved smile. "Hey! So you finally decided to come around!", he greeted his friend, settling on the other site of the bed. Jesse grinned knowingly, a mischievous answer already tresent on his lips. If his chest hadn't hurt so much, he would have giggled.  
  
"Sure! Or did you really think I wanted to miss that sight!", he threw Steve a gleefull look. "Nice to see that you changed your opinion about scrubs!"  
  
Steve shot him a short glance. "Not really voluntarily, though!", he answered, smling wryly. "You really scared the hell outta us. Good to have you back!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later  
  
"Dad!", sounded Steve's voice from the bottom of the stairs. In shiny mood the lieutenant entered the kitchen to meet his father standing in front of the refrigator and Amanda, looking slightly helpless, next to him. "Look what I have bought!", Steve announced happily.  
  
Mark's look lightened immediatly. "Oh great, the vegetables I forgot!"  
  
Steve grimaced disappointedly. "Uh no...but I've finally bought ketch-up!" Grinning, he lifted two bottles of red souce while Mark's gaze dropped.  
  
"Oh great!", the older man remarked dryly. "So our survival would be saved for the coming two weeks!"  
  
"Hey, you said I should buy ketch-up!", Steve argued, putting the two bottles ontp the kitchen counter. "Oh, by the way, I'm just coming from the prosecuting attorneys, Danny Corrings has confessed everything. He never got over Susan giving evidence in the trial against him, so he wanted to take revenge...we ain't gonna see him again..."  
  
"That's great news!", Mark said, smiling relievedly.  
  
"I'm only happy that this nightmare is finally over!", Amanda added and earned agreeing nods from her friends.  
  
It was over now. Their friends were save again. Finally there were no sleepless nights anymore and that numb weak-and sadness that had hung over them like a heavy cloud was washed away by now. Of course, they all knew, there were some things to be sorted out, but in those, at that point they'd all agreed, they wouldn't meddle. It was up to Jesse how he would deal with his experience and his future.  
  
Knowing the things were out of their hands, the four of them quickly returned their attention to their meal which still caused some problems.  
  
"So...are we gonna eat eggs with ketch-up?", Mark asked rethorically and raised one eyebrow. He and Amanda looked at Steve who shrugged. "What?"  
  
When their gazes remained on him, he lifted his hands appeasingly. "Okay...okay...forget about the ketch-up, I'm just gonna order some pizzas, alright?!"  
  
"Great choice, son!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In the meanwhile Jesse and Susan had taken a walk along the beach. For a long time they had only been walking next to each other, their hands stuck in their pockets as though they were rooted there. Their bare feet made their way through the moist sand and their trousers were already a bit wet since they had been strolling near the line where the breakers rolled onto the beach. The ocean reflected the red light of the sunset and it was already beginning to get colder.  
  
None of them had dared to speak, they both were to much afraid of what they were about to say and to what a discussion might lead. Now that things were going back to normal they had to sort some things.  
  
Jesse suddenly stood still and turned to look at her. "What went wrong with us?" The question sounded rather childish once he had spoken it out, but it had been bothering him all the time.  
  
Susan remained silent for a moment. To be honest she didn't know it herself. She shrugged. "Actually I don't know...I think we were just too different...in what we wanted, what we expected..."  
  
He sighed. "Still the old thing...getting married and stuff?"  
  
She shook her head. "It wasn't only that...it was...you never made plans for anything....or maybe I made too much...dunno, I had the feeling that I was bother to you..."  
  
He smiled sadly. "And thought that I was bother to you...", he made a break and stared out onto the ocean. "You know...sometimes I have the feeling that relationships are just..."  
  
"Beyond you...", she ended the sentence for him and as he gave her a surprised look, she almost had to laugh. "I know the feeling..same over here!"  
  
"I dunno...like...I...I...I still need you...", he stammered and blushed. He didn't know what else to say. So he had just tried the truth.  
  
"I need you, too....I just don't know if that is enough...", she stated, but it sounded less firmly than she had hoped.  
  
"What if I said it was..."  
  
"Then I'd say that you're being naive!", she replied, smiling though.  
  
"That's said to be one of my best characteristics!", retorted and continued after a while of silence. "Guess we're stuck..."  
  
She nodded, bowing her head. "Guess you're right!"  
  
The waves roared and the sun now had performed into a red fireball that slowly sank into the Pacific. Seagulls could be seen as small point on the horizon, the breeze had become stronger.  
  
"Guess that's why they call it the blues...", Jesse mumbled, very quietly.  
  
Susan frowned at him. "Do you really think it's the moment to recite brit- pop-songs?"  
  
"Time on my hands could be time spent with you...", Jesse went on, only reciting the next line of the song in an absent-minded voice.  
  
"Laughing like children, living like lovers...", murmured Susan, eyeing up to him. Both of them couldn't help but giggling. There was just a rightness about this, a feeling they both hadn't had for a very long time.  
  
Slowly, very slowly, his right hand moved out of pocket and towards her left, their fingers touched and jamed into each other. So they stood, holding each other's hands tightly while the waves splashed around their feet. For now it was as easy as that.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hey, I kinda left this as an open end (though you can surely see my tendency to a happy end *g*) so that everyone can think of an end that you like personally. I hope that you enjoyed the story a bit and wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your reviews and mails all the time! Thank you!! 


End file.
